The Charlie Project :: Episode I
by Ellastasia
Summary: [Episode One] Where Charlie makes some new friends and discovers the World of Darkness.
1. One

This wasn't what I was expecting. I was expecting a town a little more rundown, something a little more like I was used to. Apparently, according to Bishop Street, I was in a very well-to-do neighborhood. I suppose the fact that Yale was about a mile down this the hazy road in the late afternoon had something to do with the visual appeal.

No, this was a quaint town. There were trees here. Nice,strong old ones. It was clean. I figured it'd be hoity toity, but not until I got into this vicinity did I realize this was really some ritzy neighborhood.

Figured.

Only an hour ago did I figure out that Brooke had been going to Yale for nearly ten years now. Her father had money, but still. To me, that's a long time to be spending at university. Especially an expensive one. She was getting a degree in graphic arts. I knew my way around those arts degrees, and personally, I think daddy was just getting her out of his hair. Something was fishy.

I quit community college after my associates because I needed to make money. Like anyone else.

And consequently, I made lots of bad choices. Idiot choices.

Had lots of terrible ideas. Juvenile, immature, impudent ideas that made me end up here, driving slowly down Bishop Street in New Haven Connecticut, looking for a friend's house whom I hadn't seen in, well, almost ten years. So I don't always blame my problems on everyone else. Only in the last year did I stop playing that game. Because now I know I'm the one responsible for the problems I have in my life now.

But enough with the crying about it. I'm sick of crying. I need to find this address that I'd hastily scribbled down on the back of a coupon book, because my life as I knew it was over now. I needed to put away the old chapter and start a new chapter. Part Two. Setting not necessarily to be in Connecticut, but I felt that it should begin somewhere away from what I used to call home. It was an idea that hadn't left me alone since... well, I don't want to get into that right now.

So on this abnormally warm day, with the sunlight flickering in my eyes and aggravating me, I felt this was turning this into a most unfulfilling prologue.

These lovely Neo-Victorian style homes were throwing me for a loop here. I was expecting short apartments. A little campus-like, sure. Neo-Victorian architecture, colors and bricks and all? No.

And there it went. That light blue house with the number 401 on the mailbox.

I had to go all the way down to the stop sign and repeat the directions. Growing up in one-way streets, all towns and cities felt the same. The sense of direction came naturally to me, as if I could see myself moving on the map in my head. It's those winding country roads that screwed me up. I'll take a city grid any day.

So this is Brooke's house. Tall, narrow, kind of like herself. Was that coincidence? I didn't recognize any cars, obviously, but she said she'd be home. So I pulled into the narrow driveway with my tail end obstructing the sidewalk. I wasn't sure if I could even park in this spot, but hey, it's only temporary. I texted her, anxiety suddenly setting in as soon as I thought of getting out of my little two-door Toyota, calmed my nerves while I waited for her reply.

No, I told myself. I accept this. This has to be done. There is no way I could have stayed there. This is not impulsive. This is not another bad decision. I'm not compulsive. I'm not – the familiar chime. It never worked.

Brooke: Be down in a sec.

This seals the deal, doesn't it?

I stepped out into the warm September air, catching a whiff of the musty smell of fallen leaves in the dampness. The walk was short and I nervously stood at the bottom of the steps, painfully aware of any passersby that should notice my restlessness. Thankfully, there were none.

And I was grateful for that, because Brooke opened the door and greeted me with such a big smile and with open arms. Have you not seen anyone from high school since we left? I let myself be embraced and squealed over. But I felt the strange aloof nostalgia that I always got when I reunited with old classmates, as I figured I would. I only knew these people by name. Personalities changed or became more exaggerated, usually for the worse. Brooke fell into the category of the unknown persona.

I'd known her as bubbly, friendly, and attractive, but now she looked middle-aged, that youthful charm faded, her spark faded. As if she knew how to carry on the façade, but the life inside of her was gone.

"Charlie, how are you! It's been so long!"

I extricated myself, wondering what ever possessed me to think that this was a good idea. "About ten years, yeah," I replied, looking up at her clear grey eyes. "This is a really nice place you have," was all I could muster up.

"Oh sure," she shrugged, "it's just a spot. I liked my old spot better. Nicer trees. But this'll do, I'm so close to my classes, you know? You got a lot of stuff? Come in, I don't want the neighbors to snoop."

I followed her in. They're already snooping, now that they see the Jersey plates in the driveway. Her home was even nicer in the inside, a vivid contrast against the antique accents of the century clashing with the 21st century decor. Well she had quite the spot, alright. I complimented her fairly, discovering that another tenant occupied the upstairs, while she had full reign of the main and lower floor. Nice pad.

"This is all so nice, Brooke," I said, setting down my water bottle and leaning on her galley kitchen counter, neglecting to ask her if her father paid for it all.

"It's good, it works. I don't spend a whole lot of time here, actually, only when I'm studying."

And then the awkward silence set in, because it had been ten years, and we both knew quite well that neither of us weren't the same person anymore.

"So what exactly happened back in Jersey, Charlie? Sounds pretty bad."

I glanced up at her. "It's..." Where do I start? I hardly know this girl. "It's complicated. I... I really don't know where to start."

"What did he do?"

I eyed her. "Is it always about a guy?"

She said nothing, looking back at me.

Anxiety. My heart raced. The fear of being disbelieved. I had to quell that. Brooke wasn't being malicious, she was just blurting out her initial feelings as she always had. She didn't know. "I had to get away from it all. If I stayed any longer…" Wow Charlie, way to share your feelings. "I mean, I don't want to be alone. I have no one down there. It's home but it hurts too much right now."

Brooke's mouth made a sympathetic oh. "And what about your sister?"

"She lives in South Jersey; she left a long time ago. We don't talk much. She's better than everybody, that kind of thing."

"Yeah, there's a lot of them like that out there," Brooke nodded.

"Kel could care less, anyway. She's got a fiancée now and—"

"And she's the golden child, right?" Brooke finished for me.

I nodded. If that's what you want to call it.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. You can stay as long as you want. I'm by myself here, I'm sure you can find a job somewhere – that is, if you want to stay that long."

"Yeah, I really appreciate it Brooke, really, I do."

"Don't worry about it," Brooke smiled, touching my arm. "Let's get your stuff out of the car, okay? I'll take you out tonight, my treat."

"Ah, you don't have to, I'm a little tired actually, you know, stress and all..."

"You'll feel better. Come on," Brooke gestured, and I gave up.


	2. Two

Hey there ChocolateTeapot! Thank you for your kind words!

* * *

When the chatterbox finally left me alone in my room, I collapsed onto the chic purple bedspread. She said she was making plans, and would scoop me up in an hour or so. And I was free to rummage and roam as I liked. Tempting, but I had a decent set of manners.

How did I end up here? I laid down on my back, finding myself gazing mindlessly at the plastered ceiling. The ceiling fan was ornate, maybe an original. This house was old, maybe as old as Yale, and my eyes began admiring its traditional trim. She hadn't attempted to maintain that atmosphere. The abstract two-tone paintings and right angled furniture were painfully out of place. It was obvious she'd picked whatever caught her fancy from the latest Ikea magazine. But still, the undeniable character of its age shone through the glassy veneer of contemporary.

Again, what was I doing here? Running away from my problems? I'd never done that before. Pretended optimism, but never physically ran away. It was surreal. I felt like an actress playing a role. When would the scene end? How could I explain this to someone I hadn't talked to in ten years? How did this even happen? We'd been friends all these years on Facebook, but never once did we discuss hanging out when she came home a couple times a year. We'd just "like" each other's random photos. Hell, I had her in two of my classes in senior year, and the only reason we became friends was because of a friend suggestion.

Lame.

She was everybody's friend.

Or she used to be. I hadn't been a part of her clique with their inside jokes, but now, for whatever reason, I didn't see that exclusivity in her anymore.

But like what I've seen happen to myself and everyone else, classmates fell to the wayside. Sure, some folks stay tight forever, but that's because they went to college together, or live near each other, or what have you. I was a transplant to begin with, so I never really felt at home.

Even New Haven, as quaint and beautiful as it was, felt like just another scene.

How could I tell Brooke what really happened? I sat up, checking my phone for any messages. Any emails.

Not a soul. At least no one I personally knew.

I'd left Jersey on bad terms. No one would check up on me. I wanted it that way, but a small part, that little desperate voice that I manage to suppress most of the time, was incessantly cringing with hope. Maybe, just maybe, somebody would wonder about me.

The only one I was kidding was myself.

Then again, I didn't tell anyone I was leaving. I'd quit my receptionist job a month ago, so what ties did I have left? Coworkers were just that since I had nothing in common with them. I wasn't the weekender, I wasn't the socialite, and I wasn't trendy. I laughed at all their jokes while groveling inside. I listened to their stories as if I approved of them.

Most of the time, no one noticed that I didn't laugh, or that I had nothing but cynicism to offer. Acquaintances typically went sour post realization that I wasn't amused.

I heard someone approaching my room and I hastily sat up, hoping I didn't look as forlorn and lost as I felt.

So much for not being phony.

Brooke poked her head in. "You like seafood?"

"Sure."

I loved seafood. But I didn't know Brooke from the stranger across the street. Raising enthusiasm was a low priority at the moment.

"Great. I worked something out for eightish, that's not too late, right?"

It was only 4. "That's fine. Maybe I can get a nap before then? It's been a long day." Excuses. But I wanted to be left alone. Talking about my problems to a semi-stranger wasn't appealing to me at the moment.

"No problem! I'm going to run some school errands, I'd have invited you along but," she displayed a concerned expression on her face, "I understand. I know how it is, hon. You need to breathe. There's no pressure here, I'll get you back to normal in no time."

"I really appreciate it, I really do. No one's stepped out this much for me, especially..." I caught myself. Especially not from a stranger. Funny how strangers tend to show more caring than those who claim to care.

She smiled again. "I understand. Get some rest, maybe you'll feel better. Remember, there's no stress here."

I smiled gratefully. I wished she were right.

She closed the door and I refrained from flopping back down on the bed.

I reached down to my light traveling bag, retrieving my knappy notebook. I had brought this knapsack, and a bigger gym bag with all my clothes and everything else I called my own. I used to hoard a lot of things, but the older I got, the more inclined I was to stability than to looking fashionable. I hadn't been to the mall in years. I was clean and always presentable, but you'd always find me in black.

The red binding of my journal was fuzzy, but I liked it that way. My marking thread was nearly at the end of the book; I would have to buy a new journal soon. That's probably why my entries were getting shorter and shorter. I didn't want to let it go.

I sacrificed my expression for word count.

There's another epiphany that I'll avoid in my impending entry of self-pity.


	3. Three

As expected, I did not take a nap, despite the absolute mental exhaustion I was tormenting over. I wrote for an hour, stole outside for a cigarette, and ended up smoking two more as I enjoyed the cooling twilight and the quietude. I had no idea when Brooke would return, so I retreated back inside. Her upstairs tenant was nowhere to be seen or heard, either. Tentatively, I perused her kitchen. I'm something of a snoop, you see. Looking through her drawers, drawing conclusions of her personality, I gathered that she was particular. That aligned well with her Taurus sign. Flighty, yes, but genuine, sure. Combine those two and you have a good companion, albeit one that flits from friend to friend, never losing any but gaining many. At least the social butterfly types.

Cancer me, well I liked the same old. And I was the dull melancholy type, not that wild lovable riot. I am loads of fun to be around. That would be sarcasm, something I'm terrible at. How this miserable sulk called I is going to get along with this glitterati gal should be interesting.

No, I don't want to go to a restaurant tonight. Brooke, if you want to talk, let's do it over a cup of tea and cigarettes in private. But I can't possibly say something like that to her.

I wandered the rest of her home, still another two hours until our "date," and I was beginning to get hungry. She didn't have much food in her pantry or frig. Judging by her kitchenware, she wasn't much of a cook. Orderly, but not a cook.

A few handfuls of cereal later, I sat at her front curtained window, intermittently gazing out into the street and down at my phone until I saw her red Audi pull up in front of the house.

Carrying a black paper bag by its handles. A small smile played at my lips because that didn't surprise me.

I stayed nonchalant in the armchair as she strolled in. She spied me immediately and I put my phone down. I smiled back at her.

"Sorry I'm late! Believe me, this has nothing to do with school!"

"You don't have to apologize," I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Okay, good. Then come over here." She looked dazed, but yet she looked normal. I paused, observing her, before getting up from the armchair and approaching her.

She retrieved a small black box and made eye contact with me. 'Brooke, what's this?'

"Just a little something. Here, open it."

I took the box from her. It was a small square, about the size of my iPod. What in the world could she have gotten, and why?

It was a small locket in the shape of book. "Brooke, you shouldn't have!"

She smiled wanly. "I'm glad you came up. I remembered seeing you with a book all the time, so I thought of you when I saw it."

I thanked her and gave her a hug. It was odd. Yes, I used to read so much back then. Funny how it seemed I did so much of everything back then. Now it felt like I never did anything and had no time for it on top of it.

It was a kind gesture, but before I could think of something complimentary, she turned around and began for the hallway, leaving me to stand there alone with the trinket in my hand.

She seemed... distant. Or was it just my overall sentimental mood with the soft glow of the wall lamps in this dim twilight that made the shadows inside of me longer? I watched her disappear into her room. I placed her gift back into its box and decided to place it on my bureau.

We headed down toward the harbor, and it began looking more like the urban areas I was familiar with. I liked bricks and pavement. Brush and flora nerved me. Truth was, I was afraid of how organic nature was. Man-made materials were predictable, it was solid. Bushes and flowers, well they were volatile and serene at the same time. Their duality put me on edge.

So sitting in the passenger's seat while Brooke provided me with a rollercoaster of a ride, listening to her music just loud enough to prevent standard conversation, I knew something had to be wrong. She was quiet, and that was the biggest clue. But what could I say? Shouting "are you okay" felt insensitive.

And throughout the entire ride, there was this prickly silence. No, I didn't feel any animosity on her part against me, but rather that she was fighting some demons in her own head. Maybe it had something to do with her trip out this afternoon.

By the time she parallel parked the little coupe, I was fully intentioned upon asking her what was wrong.

The niceties over, still noting that Brooke was terse and meek, I waited until the waitress disappeared before I leaned over.

"What's the matter?"

Her grey eyes furtively turned to me, then looked away. "I wanted you to meet my boyfriend tonight, but he bailed."

Was it that devastating? We barely knew each other. "Is that where you went today?"

"Yes." She sighed, looking aggravated yet morose. "This isn't anything new. He said he may drop in, but I don't know, I'm not hopeful. I'm never hopeful."

"I'm sorry," I replied. Suspicion clouded over me, and she noticed.

"No, no, it's nothing like that Charlie, really. He's not cheating on me or anything. Let's just say he leads a busy life." A small spark flickered behind her gaze.

I wondered what that meant. But before I could make a comment, she changed the subject.

"So here's the deal: I don't care how long you stay up here, but you can't stay unless you tell me what happened, okay?"

I shrugged in defeat, smiling courteously as the waitress delivered my water and Brooke's soda. "It's such a long story—"

"I've got all the time in the world," she folded her arms, leaning her elbows on the table. "Just start from the beginning."

Leaning in: interested. Folding arms: judging, defensive – no! I had to stop analyzing. "My mother left when I was sixteen. She moved away with my sister, while I stayed with my dad. He's..." I met her eyes. They weren't understanding. "He's not the nicest guy."

"Why didn't you go with your mom and sis?"

"They... didn't want me. I had two years left in high school, and I just..."

"I had no idea. Why didn't you say anything?"

Because I was a coward, I wanted to cry to her. "It just didn't work out that way. I tried to move out when I graduated from high school, but that didn't last long. I tried the community college thing, got my associates, but my dad's disability wasn't covering enough of the bills so I had to start working fulltime. It took a while before I found anything reliable. My dad was starting to see other women, and he'd nag me incessantly.

"When I got a boyfriend at twenty-one, he scared him away. There was nothing I could do, my father kept emailing him and harassing the guy, and so he broke up with me."

"That is so wrong!"

"It's... yeah, it is. I did get another boyfriend a couple of years later I met from my job at the time. But you know what they say, that girls find guys that are like their fathers. Well he wasn't a mentally insane nag, but his negativity really kicked my ass. I've been with him on and off until..." I couldn't bring myself to finish the story.

"Is he why you left?"

"Sort of…yes."

She stared at me for a good long minute, hardly perturbed by the waitress who set our salad dishes and biscuits for us. She must think us a depressing pair. I could only just stare down at the buttery bread, knowing it had that perfectly flaky garlic flavor, and yet it was completely unappealing to me at this moment. The steam floated a few inches in front of me before disintegrating into a sweet invisible aroma. I watched it perform its magical swirls until Brooke decided she had figured it out.

"Charlie," she said with a low gasp. "He didn't... he didn't do that, did he?"

I looked at her. I had no idea was "that" was.

She covered her mouth, her expression back to the extroverted teenager I remember. Somehow, her concern didn't really look genuine.

"Well that wasn't your fault. Charlie, you had nothing to do with that, please, I hope you don't think so—"

"No," I waved my hand. I've heard it before a million times. "I know. I know he had problems. We were still friends, there wasn't any bitter feelings. I felt bad for him," like I always fell for, "we haven''t been together in years, but do you remember that house fire in the news last month?"

"I don't really watch the news, sorry," she looked perplexed.

"He was getting pretty serious with another girl, or should I say she was trying to get really serious with him. He was getting sick of her trying to change him and she went psycho on him. She burned his house down."

"That crazy bitch!"

"Well... I mean, ah, he was in it."

This time, she was genuinely enlightened and equally horrified.

That's why I left New Jersey. All I could do was barely carry on in shock and disbelief.

I couldn't take it anymore, looking at the same roads, the same strip malls we'd been to, his words echoing in my head of how much worse things could get, or how he'd eventually marry me one day, and how I believed him. Oh how I adored him. No matter how many times he dumped me for a bimbo year in and year out, I kept holding on to him. Had I wasted my years? What was the purpose of all of this?

Did life always have to be such a perverse tragedy?


	4. Four

I'd lost my mood for eating, and instead I sat numbly through the appetizer and the entrée, listening to her go on about what had transpired in her previous ten years.

Indeed, she was unsure of her occupational calling, so she flitted along through university, as she described it, searching for her passion. This search evidently led her to this fellow she'd met last year. Apparently, everything happened last year. She found her calling in graphic arts, she'd met her undeclared boyfriend, and she'd been introduced into a fine society of friends that she simply still could not get enough of.

He didn't go to the university, but rather dealt with some mystical business in the evening hours.

Her exact words.

Sounded juvenile, I thought.

I hid my reaction to the incredulity of her statement, something I was quite skilled at. She chattered on about the allure of his colleagues, then suddenly stopped and looked at me with a peculiar gleam in her eye.

"I think I know just the thing," she smiled.

I caught her drift before she said it, and I shook my head. "Thanks Brooke, but really, I'm not interested. I'm not in any position to be gallivanting around—"

"I swear you'll forget all your problems; I'm not kidding at all! I can barely remember life before I met this guy! If I wasn't all eyes for Gabriel, I mean, geez, Charlie, you have to see his friends, please, you have to!"

"It just doesn't feel right," I argued. This was going to be harder than I thought. I didn't come up here to get recruited to some weirdo soothsayers or whatever business Brooke's boyfriend practiced. Finding a boyfriend was the last thing on my mind. "Maybe in the future, but I can't. Not for a while, anyway."

Uncanny, really, because that was the precise moment her cell phone buzzed on the table between us. My heart stuck in my throat even before Brooke glanced down and suddenly became a giddy five-year-old. I knew who that had to be. And here I was, absolutely helpless. I just wanted some rest!

"Yes dah-ling?" She purred into the phone.

Funny how people change when they're on the phone. I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair, both out of courtesy (not that the couple four tables away from us couldn't hear her) and out of my typical passive sense of expression. Please let him tell her "not tonight." Please, oh please.

"Are you really?" She giggled.

I huffed. She was comfortable indulging in herself with me, and that'd made me feel comfortable enough with her. Almost as if we were old friends. But we were never this close. Maybe she'd gotten lonely. But I wasn't so lonely to willingly accompany her to watch her gush over her boyfriend. God only knew what kind of "stud" he was. That, and I was dead tired. It was nearly ten, and I wouldn't want anything more than to crawl under some blankets and curl into the fetal position until the sun forced its way up again. Only twelve hours ago, I'd been fighting off tears while trying to see clearly on the northbound Turnpike.

So much for time off.

"I would have never guessed it! Billy was always—"

Seems like he enjoys talking just as much as her, I thought to myself as I stared off beyond her to the rows of empty wine bottles on the far wall. This seafood restaurant was quaint, rustic, cozy, warm for a cool September night. I'd purposefully neglected the white zinfandel because I'd probably have ended up dozing onto the table from the day's journey.

"Gabe honey, remember what I told you today?"

My torso stiffened, anticipating what she was hinting at. My thoughts went blank, besides the incessant "no, please, no, say no..." repeating itself in my head. I watched her facial expression from the corner of my eye. Listening... a slight tension of focus... a nearly invisible flare of conceit... excitement... damn it.

"Could we? Oh, but hold on!" She pulled her phone down from her face, leaning forward to me with a widest smile. "Charlie!" She whispered. Now only the couple two tables away could hear her. "Eleven's not too late, is it?"

I pursed my lips and gave two stiff nods. It damn well certainly is too late.

She made her best impression of a sad puppy face.

I wasn't having it. "I just got here! Seriously, I'm tired!" I seethed as quietly as possible, hoping mister Gabe honey wouldn't hear me.

"I won't bother you for the rest of the week!"

"Look at this!" I said to myself, unable to contain my annoyance.

"Come on, it's only Wednesday! I won't bother you till Sunday!"

I looked at her helplessly, sighing and putting my head in my hands.

"She says yes!"

I shot her a quick look and she was back to her big smiles, entirely oblivious to the world. I hadn't acquiesced, how could she!

"Brooke!" I whined through grit teeth.

"The usual, okay! Yes! I'll see you soon—" And a series of air kisses that made my stomach turn.

I noticed the waitress awaiting a polite approach to our table, but Brooke got to her first.

"Espresso, if you have? Two?"

The waitress nodded and retreated.

"Eleven o'clock? Are you kidding me?" No, I wasn't letting her get away with this.

"Trust me," she leaned over the table, placing her phone down again beside the centerpiece. "He told me Jamie''s going to be there tonight, I think you two would make an amazing pair!"

I didn't hide my disgust at this.

But it hardly fazed her, and she tsked and waved her hand at me. "Trust me. Before you know it, it'll be six in the morning and you'll wonder where the time went!"

The laugh couldn't be suppressed. I'm no more "normal" than the next guy, but this was ridiculous! "Are we going to a party or something? What is this?"

"No, they're just taking the night off. I mean they'll do their business, too, but it'll be pretty informal. He doesn't have any meetings or anything like that, so it'll be laid back. Trust me-ee," she grabbed my arm and shook me.

My eyes rolled as she shook, another long and aggravating exhale escaping my passiveness. "I really don't – if there's a couch there or something, I'll be passed out on it," I gave her the eye. "And the rest of the week no more. You promise me."

"Deal," she grinned. "No harsh feelings?"

"Ah," I shook my head in wonderment of her childishness. And the inconsiderate request. "No, if there isn't any on your end, there isn't any on mine." But I am so fucking tired.

The espressos came and went. A second round of caffeine came and went, though I couldn't finish the last one to the last drop. We made a restroom detour before leaving the restaurant. Even when we got in the car, she was still primping and spritzing and giggling before zooming off.

I'm surprised she didn't get a speeding ticket. Did I mention that I hate being driven around? Especially when I have no bearings of my location? I discreetly searched for the names and numbers of local cabbies, should I need it. No need for discretion, I frowned as I glanced over at her. The music was loud and she was in a rush. And she was still oblivious to the world, which struck me as odd. Almost like she were in a trance.

"When's the last time you hung out with him?" I yelled over the din.

I had to repeat myself before she yelled back that Monday night was the last. Sad. Sure, I understand missing someone you're obsessed over, but how long does that obsession last? Maybe she did find her true love. Though I had my doubts. Many of them.

Only when she turned down a ritzy neighborhood where the houses had automatic gates and quarter mile circular driveways did some of those doubts start to disappear into thin air.

Well, why should I be surprised? Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against rich folk. In fact, I love the aesthetics. But not so much the arrogance that more often than not came along with it, I just excused them for being ignorant. But Brooke was wealthy, so why not? Maybe this was one of her father's friends, and, thus, true love.

When the gates electronically opened for us with a quiet whir, I was in a state of wonder as I sat back in her Audi, feeling wholly out of place, my physical exhaustion temporarily forgotten.

This sort of upper class, I've never been to. Look at me in my disheveled black hair with a linty black pea coat and thin blue scarf. My thirty-dollar pair of boots and four dollar leggings underneath the long grey sweater I'd gotten on clearance six months ago. What an insult to the high society, I chuckled to myself. We were nearly up to the main entrance now.

There were a few top-of-the-line vehicles parked around the bend that hugged a rather conservative entrance. Nevermind that it was a covered terrace of smooth limestone. Where was the valet, I thought sarcastically to no one. She pulled over behind a black Mercedes, put the car in park, and looked over to me.

"You ready?"

What was I, meeting the President? "As ready as I'll ever be. But listen!" I touched her arm before she could bolt out of the car. She forcefully stopped herself mid-reach for her door handle. "I'm really not in the mood. Please don't push anybody on me, at least not tonight." I had to satiate her match-making desires somehow. "Please?"

She made a half-frown in pseudo disappointment. "Okay. But if someone does come on to you, it wasn't me."

What the hell was I walking into?

As I opened the door, her door had already slammed shut. I looked up at the manse, my heart beginning to pound in my chest. This didn't feel right at all. Not at all.


	5. Five

_ChocolateTeapot:: Thank you too much for your continued support!_

* * *

The mansion loomed in front of me like a formidable shadow. Fashionable evening lights, I figured, since they were dim behind closed curtains. It was a modernized Georgian with a few stone faces that held ornate two-story windows with all the fixings. A decent 1.2 mil house for the area at least, I presumed.

"The first person you'll meet is probably Will, he always answers the door. He's not very talkative, but he plays the role of butler, even though he isn't really. Kind of a weird guy, if you ask me. Just smile and nod, everything's fine."

Was there reason for me not to be fine? "Brooke,' I had to scurry up a couple steps to catch up as she began hurrying off again. I held onto her arm. "What kind of business is this? He works from home?"

"He directs, basically, which is why he can work from home. But this is Jann's house."

That would be "yon" like a Scandinavian "John." Something like Hans, but that's German anyway. We were nearly at the front door, and I kept holding on to her arm. She didn't seem to notice. Whether it was the late hour or my fatigue, or the weird avoidance of Brooke's description of her boyfriend (apart from his purported good looks and alluring personality), I was getting anxious. The bad kind that makes me feel clammy and edgy.

She stopped right in front of the door, looking vacant in her anticipation. She was nearly vibrating under my touch, and I let go abruptly, feeling awkward. She looked like she was in a trance.

The door partially opened, revealing a tall figure silhouetted from the orange light behind him.

"Miss Miller, greetings. Your friend?"

"Charlene Stanley, but she goes by Charlie."

This felt... I looked back and forth at her and the faceless silhouette. Surreal? Had she even rung the bell? Oh, of course. Somebody had to have opened the gate. I felt his gaze on me and I smiled politely. It came out as more of an intentional smirk, as I couldn't hold the severity of the situation. I was thoroughly unnerved, and the air was getting colder. Or was it just me? And how long was this guy going to look at me? My eyes had averted as soon as I noticed his frown. No, I was no intruder. I didn't even want to be here.

And then the door opened to let us through. What was with these formal procedures? Then again, as I walked in, the doorman's face came into the light and I looked away just as quickly so as not to stare. What an odd complexion! His eyes were sunken into his head, despite his middle-aged appearance in which he looked like a combination of thirty-five and seventy-five.

And I knew better than to stare and immediately distracted myself by watching Brooke, who was still acting quite stiff and most unlike herself. And for once, the interior design didn't pull me in. I enjoyed architecture, I knew a buttress from a flying one. But the cherry walls and hand-carved banisters on the stately staircase hardly beckoned for my attention. That, too, unnerved me.

I felt entirely not like myself. And Brooke was acting strangely, too. She paused, turned, and looked to who I assumed was Will.

I heard footsteps behind me, then he suddenly appeared beside me and was beside her, then past us, and then Brooke was following him and I felt myself moving after them as well.

We passed beautiful interior decorations. I was slightly aware, but abnormally uninterested.

I was getting annoyed, trying to muster up the urge to question Brooke about this peculiar sense of depressiong. Not that she would understand. She was probably silently screaming in excitement over seeing her "Gabriel angel" and wouldn't give a damn what was bothering me, let alone feeling. I didn't even know what was bothering me! I knew I'd be fending for myself the second she came into contact with him.

Sad.

But still, it felt absolutely odd to be ignoring what would always distract me. As if I were under a spell. Was I just tired? Why couldn't I say anything? I carried the rear, Brooke and Will walking in single file in front of me, and all I could see were their silhouettes against open double doors at the end of the decorative hallway. I could hear voices, laughter, a strange aroma of spice. Incense. My senses felt more and more clogged the closer we got to that entrance.

I didn't like it at all. Again, what was I getting myself into?

And suddenly, I found myself in a large sitting room, floor lamps scattered around the perimeter that shed light upon its nearest inhabitants that reclined or laid upon an armchair or sofa. I stopped in my tracks, feeling like I was in a haze. But my mind clouded again, my thoughts directed toward Brooke. She too was standing still. Where was this "Gabriel angel""— and then my wondering stopped abruptly, and my gaze traveled lazily to the far corner of the room.

For a split second, I was looking directly into a pair of amber chestnut eyes, and then suddenly I was back inside my body, looking at a man dressed in a dark blue button-up in an armchair, his legs crossed. And he was looking at me.

My heart thumped hard. "Who are you and why are you staring-!" I wanted to scream, but the thought never finished. I felt violated. Fear crept inside and I wrenched my gaze away, forcing myself to focus on Brooke. She was only a mere two steps beside me, but I wanted to speak to her. I felt less anxiety when I focused on her, but yet it took a strange push of willpower to take those two steps to her. She was silent and was blankly looking around the room. Maybe Gabriel wasn't here?

Even to give air to my voice took an awkward effort of force. Meanwhile, the room was full of laughter and personal conversations.

"Brooke," I whispered, keeping my eyes on her face.

She didn't respond.

"Brooke, what's going on?"

I felt a pang inside my chest, like a literal prick on my breastbone. I tensed, ignoring it, but the sting wouldn't fade.

"Brooke! Answer me!" Another prick. "Look at me!"

She was entirely unresponsive. Anger began welling up, and then the prick of pain mysteriously began to fade. Anger at the man in the corner that I felt was still staring at me. Anger at the zombie-like Brooke who had dragged me here against my will. Anger at the companions in this room who completely ignored our presence. And where had that Will gone to?

Ah, I spied the black dust jacket of the butler approaching that man in the corner. Well I wasn't going to look his way. Instead, I looked around the room again. Three men in their individual spots, one of them had a girl draped around his arm. She was pale and looked high. What sort of club was this? Drugs? I abhorred mind alterations. If this were the case, I was leaving right now.

But I was interrupted by Brooke's movement. I clenched my hands into fists, watching her move toward a blond-haired man who appeared to have just finished a conversation with his dark-haired companion. And I watched Brooke slowly lose her zombie-like gait and transform into a subdued version of her cheerful demeanor. By the time she got to him, she was enough herself to flop down beside the blond and throw her arms around him.

Affection.

I scowled in distaste. The angrier I got, the less the constant pinprick pained me. I don't care what they all would think of me: I was going to go over to this Gabriel individual with some questions that needed answering. I would walk back home if I had to.

But then I felt a hand on my arm.


	6. Six

I jerked my arm away and shot an angry scowl at the stranger.

It was Will who appeared to not notice my wrath. "Come with me."

"Why should I?" The words came out before I could censor myself.

Will's peculiar young-but-old exterior gave an even more peculiar expression. A very dichotomous man, he was. The look consisted of astonishment and displeasure, which, coupled with his aging lines that weren't really there, only served to infuriate me more.

I hated not comprehending.

"Your presence is required."

I waited for something more, but he said nothing else. I quickly glanced back to Brooke, then quickly looked away. Sucking face. How uncouth. For a second, I pondered just turning around and walking out the way I'd came in.

"Fine," I grumbled. I'd have to at least know what I was walking away from, now that I'd walked into it.

But no! I wasn't curious this way! What was I doing! My steps didn't falter even though I didn't want to go where we were going. To that man in the corner whose legs were still crossed, his finger now playing with his teeth whose amber eyes continued to look at me as I now approached him.

I fought that obnoxious spell I was under. "If you're trying to enchant me, you fail," I silently growled. "No one takes the better of me."

"Welcome," the man said, standing up, his dark crown nearly a foot above my own.

He was right there in front of me. How did that happen? I felt Will's presence fading away behind me.

What was I going to say? My throat had a stopper in it now, and I could only look up at him. He seemed not to notice my silence and instead raised his hand to place it on my back. We were now walking, him beside me, guiding me, with that hand between my shoulder blades that felt like a heavy club telling me where to go. Guiding us out of this queer setting into a different hallway which also happened to be a similar gallery like the first one.

But this time, my mind wasn't entranced. My legs were, but my eyes observed all the eye candy I was passing. Antique paintings, frames, tapestries, end tables with visually curious trinkets, darkened doorways and closed doors, until I found us in an indoor atrium. Ferns and short foliage lit by smartly placed lamps. A small fountain trickled in the center, two stone benches with their backs to it.

And he went to one of these benches, gesturing that I sit down.

The stone was very cool. The lighting was well enough that I could see clearly, but the shadows were still dark and gloomy. I sat straight with my heels together, hands on my lap. I watched him sit down beside me, a small smile twinkling through his eyes as he continued to look at me.

"You aren't like the others," he began, leaning his arm on the back of the bench as he crossed his legs toward me. I blinked. What, no spell?

"This is a strange party you're having," I replied, wanting badly to wipe that pleasant smile off his face.

"They entertain themselves. It's a night off."

"I wasn't planning on coming, actually," I frowned, fighting the urge to avert my gaze.

"I wasn't aware of the invitation," he leered back at me.

I blinked once, twice. Sarcasm with a smile. "Brooke insisted I come."

"This is a private party, miss Charlene. Guests such as yourself are not typically welcome. Consider yourself... privileged."

"For what?" I knew I was pushing my limits, but I wanted to. I wanted to be thrown out. Or just left alone.

"Now that you have been introduced to us—"

"I have not been introduced to anyone, may I correct you." I had no qualms interrupting, nevermind that he was probably the master of the house. He was middle-aged, dark-haired, and had a serious expression. Not altogether handsome, but not average, either. Except for when he was mocking, taunting. He was driving me crazy, and I didn't know the direction of his conversation or what I felt about him. His humor was not light-hearted. Surely, this had been the one throwing daggers at me. But mental daggers shouldn't physically hurt... "My only knowledge would be of Brooke's boyfriend, that is all. I have no interest in being here, nor do seek the same entertainment as she."

He smiled this time, tilting his head. "You are well-spoken for a girl your age."

"I'm twenty-nine, I'm no girl. And the compliment is unaccepted."

"I hardly consider you an ingrate. My apologies. I am Jann, and this is my home. Those inside are my partners. I am assured Miss Brooke has neglected to tell you the finer details?"

"I know nothing, except that Will enjoys being a butler. And I know you are the owner." Wait, why did I say all that? I narrowed my eyes at him. I had my cards lined up, and I'd inadvertently just laid out all of them. This was not my doing! I contained my distress.

He smiled back. "Normally, your kind bothers me. You... do not fit the mold. What would you like?"

What kind of question was that? This time, I did turn my eyes away, and with that, my senses felt as if they were returning. What was I doing here? Why was this person intimidating me? This feeling had been haunting me since the moment I'd lost Brooke's attention. The questions began piling up quicker than I could sort through them.

"Charlene."

He interrupted my thought and I looked at him, suddenly feeling calmed. The questions began to fade.

His voice was soft, quiet. "I asked what would you like for me to do?"

And then I felt that I didn't exactly want to leave. Perhaps an hour would be fine. Wasn't I supposed to be tired? No, that's not what you'd said. I looked away, trying to focus on the fronds of a nearby plant.

"Look at me."

"No," I said aloud, tensing, squeezing my fists and glaring at a bright green leaf. "There's something weird about you, and this place. I'd like to leave. Now."

"May I walk you out, then?"

"I can find my own way," I said through gritted teeth. Why was this so hard! Being candid was only a recent habit of mine, but once indulged in, easy to come by.

Except for now.

"Thank you for your courtesy," I said, standing up. I had to avoid his eyes. Every time I looked at him, I said and did things I did not want to do. Why?

He stood up as well, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. "Very well. We will meet again. And I shall entertain you properly next time."

Ire roiled inside of me. Walk away now and forever hold your peace. Entertain me? In his dreams!

I turned away and began walking, first with proud stiffness, then when I'd exited the atrium, with a quick gait and impatience, hopefully leaving him far behind. Nevermind all the décor. I could see this stuff elsewhere. I didn't want to see them here. The sitting room was right ahead. Should I ask for the keys? Should I just call for a cab? There was a gate at the end of the driveway as I recalled, was it motion-sensor? Could I really just walk out of here?

Then suddenly, a body was in front of me. I promptly collided into it, putting my hands up and closing my eyes.

"Ah, excuse me young lady!"

My eyes fluttered open and I found myself looking at a young man whose face made my heart fall. He looked all too much like my once beloved deceased.


	7. Seven

"I am truly sorry," he apologized again. "I should've paid more attention. Are you okay?"

Seriously? I didn't know that time could stop. Had I been holding my breath this whole time? I took a ragged inhale. This man in front of me hadn't been in that sitting room before. Where had he come from? There were still four guys in there that I could see, two with their girlfriends to now include Brooke.

"You look a little lost. Can I help you?"

Oh no, stop being so polite. "No," I shook my head quickly. "I was just..." Too much like Dan. "I was just leaving. Thanks." I began to move past him.

"Hey, wait," he touched my arm. "Didn't you just—"

He paused and his hand retracted from me.

You aren't Dan, you—Well that's why he pulled away. Jann strode around us, then paused a step beside me. He had his finger up, and he turned to look at the quieted man. "Jamie, is it done?"

So this was that Jamie that Brooke had been talking about. Jamie immediately sobered up, his face in stark contrast to the former boyish inquisitiveness. "We couldn't get through. They were there, we couldn't."

"Where's Bengal?"

"Waiting for you," Jamie answered, "he said..."

I ought to move away right about now, even though Jann was blocking my way. But Jamie didn't finish his answer and I glanced at him. He was still staring at Jann. They were both looking at each other. I wasn't going to dare and steal a glance at Jann. He infuriated me, he creeped me out. There was something much too odd about him, and yet there he loomed next to me like some unwanted shadow. And silence. Neither of them spoke.

I shuffled my feet and made a motion to walk around Jann.

He shifted to block my path, and I knew it was intentional. I felt suffocated and I looked back to Jamie. I'm sure my eyes asked him for help, but he was looking down and away from me.

I had no choice.

"Jann, please excuse me."

He didn't answer me immediately, and I almost began to think he hadn't heard me. Like Jamie, I kept my eyes averted. A few moments of awkward silence on my end passed before Jann finally said, "I will walk you out. I insist."

That was an order. I saw him raise his arm, his elbow near to me. An invitation to take his arm? I looked at Jamie again. He was still expressionless, almost subdued looking. What had just transpired?

I felt my chest fall. I had no choice. I begrudgingly and lightly curled my hand underneath Jann's forearm, and as before, he led me toward the foyer through the room and then back the way I'd entered.

"You fear too much, Charlene," he exclaimed when we were halfway to the grandfather clock.

I didn't exactly feel despondent, but I didn't exactly feel strong, either. "My instincts usually do not lie."

"Ah," I knew he was nodding. "You are wise to follow that. Too many force their primal human nature to be still. Instinct contradicts modern society."

"I'm aware of this."

"You are well-spoken, as I've told you before."

We were at the foyer now and he paused. My hand felt glued to his coat sleeve, and I too paused in my step to stand there beside him. "What do you want from me?" It wasn't easy to ask this.

"You intrigue me."

"And you anger me." Too late, I'd looked up to meet his gaze in order to make my point. Habit. Pride. Whatever it was, it was too late. He''d been waiting for me to slip up like this. Now I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was no ordinary man. His eyes encircled me, they were all I could see. The warm furnishings surrounding us disappeared, and his soul was all that filled my vision.

"It has been such a long time since I've met someone of your caliber." Again, this glint in his eye. Was that part of the spell?

"What is special about me?"

"You resist me."

Well... that's... it's not... you make it... very... hard... My chest felt like it was knotting up, being crushed from the inside out, so hard was I trying to think coherently. The harder I fought, the weaker I felt. I was paralyzed from the head down. And still, all I could see was him. His face came nearer, and then I felt a light kiss on my forehead.

The spell shattered like the clashing of broken glass.

My eyes opened.

He was gone.


	8. Eight

"Are you alright?"

A familiar face. Dan?

My heart raced and the light blinded me. I was supine, staring at a ceiling. I turned my head away, squeezing my eyes shut. I heard people shuffling around. A light hand on my chest. Voices. No, that wasn't Dan. Was that...?

"Charlie!"

Brooke! I was breathing hard and I opened my eyes to the shadow. I couldn't look at the light. It hurt me. I was reclined on something soft. Emerald velvet. A sofa. Douvais? Cherry wood. Jann's manse. I was still in the foyer. This was the seat in the foyer. Was I violated? No, everything felt as it should be. Nothing disturbed. As if I'd just been laid here. No aches, and the pressure in my head felt to be returning to normal.

The light didn't hurt as much now and I turned my head. "Brooke," I said softly. There was Jamie beside her. I'd been left in the foyer. "What happened?"

"Thank goodness Jamie found you, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?" She turned to him. He was mildly amused, but looked away when he saw me looking at him.

"I should go," he said, and made off without a good-bye.

"What...?" I sat up, Brooke shushing me to stay put, but I wasn't having any of it. "What's going on? Why am I here? I was leaving, what time is it?"

My question was answered before Brooke could reply as my eyes fell on the ornate grandfather clock that told me with delicate hands and a large swinging pendulum that it was a quarter after three.

"You were leaving by yourself?"

I looked at her sharply. 'We need to talk.'

She sighed. "I guess so. But... can we talk tomorrow? I'm really tired."

So it's okay to cut her a break when she's tired, but when I'm tired, it doesn't matter?

But I felt too drained to make this point, and I swung my legs onto the floor. My throat felt parched. A decent rest would help. There was no way I was going to speak in a halfway decent tone with her tonight anyway. I'd think more clearly tomorrow. And this time, there was no way she'd avoid my questions.

We drove home in silence.


	9. Nine

I got up before her, quickly cleaning myself up while the coffee pot dripped.

She awoke soon after me, and we groggily got our coffees together. She looked exhausted and I could hardly recall how we'd driven ourselves home last night.

After I filled my mug, I sat on the porch, smoking my cigarette and sipping on my coffee while Brooke cleaned herself up in the shower. Fifteen minutes later, I heard her moving around in the kitchen.

Time to talk.

We sat at her kitchen table, a raised cocktail seating for two. I'd made sure to get a refill. And she said I could smoke if I had to.

"Brooke, what the hell happened last night?"

"Uhm," she looked down at her coffee. "I don't know?"

Silence. Why wasn't she asking me anything? "You were with Gabriel the whole night?"

"Yes," she traced the rim of her mug.

More silence. I had to say it: "You already know what happened."

She looked up at me quickly, her eyes looking sad. "I'm sorry you're upset."

I had to process that. So... she was sorry that I was upset? Did she want this to happen? But what even happened? "I'm in the dark, Brooke, tell me what happened."

"Uh... I don't know where to start."

Where to start? How much could have possibly happened that short night? "How about you tell me about Jann."

"He's, well that's his house we were in."

"I know that, would you stop beatin' around the bush and just tell me what his deal is? How come he singled me out? How come you can't think straight when you look at him? Why is he such an asshole?"

Her face was incredulous yet amused. "He isn't their boss for no reason, hon. He is intimidating."

"But why does he hold you with his eyes like that?"

"You sound... smitten?"

"Absolutely not," I scowled, annoyed at her immaturity. "Be straight, Brooke, seriously. I don't care how crazy it sounds, just tell me."

"Jamie found you, you know."

I gave her a look. That's not what I asked. But she didn't get it.

"Jann won't allow him to go near you. But Jann left after midnight. I think Jamie was by your side the whole time."

Why didn't he just get you when he found me? I'm your friend, not his. But this is irrelevant information! But I kept my mouth shut.

Brooke went on, unperturbed. "I think he likes you. I knew he would. But I guess that's all pointless now, Jann already claimed you."

"Jann didn't claim nobody," I growled. "Sorry Brooke, but I'm never going back there again. I don't need this drama, and that whole place weirded me out, no offense. I don't want to see those people again, they really... gave me the creeps."

"Well it's... I was talking to Gabriel last night and you've been invited to come out with us this weekend."

I gave her a sidelong look. "I don't think that's happening. I don't want to. Besides, you promised."

She stared blankly at me, as if amazed that I would turn down such an offer. Was it that amazing? How wasn't she creeped out! "I need you to answer this as best you can. Please explain to me why I was laid out on the couch like that. I don't remember passing out."

"Jann showed you out?"

"He almost did."

"Jann was... enchanting you?"

"Is that what you call it? I'm really legitimately not enamored with the guy," I made sure she looked at me as I told her this. How wonderful it was to look at someone in the eye without fear of being hypnotized. Was I this scarred from last night that this thought even occurred to me?

"You know, that's funny you say that. Gabriel wasn't exactly my type of guy, either. But what does it matter?" Her eyes suddenly became dreamy and distant.

I snapped my fingers in her face, and she shook her head. "Get to the point," I growled.

"Uh, my point is, I think you have go this Saturday."

"That wasn't the point. What happened last night when I was passed out?"

"What did he do to you?"

Wasn't that what she was supposed to be telling me? "We stopped in the foyer, and I... accidentally looked at him, and he kissed my forehead. And... that... heavy feeling in my chest felt like it lifted, and then suddenly I'm waking up on the couch. That's all."

"You weren't happy?"

"You were there, dopey, did I look happy to you?"

"Oh yeah," her brows knitted as if she was trying hard to recall.

"What did Jamie tell you when he saw you?"

"Uh, he found you like this and not to tell Jann that he was sitting with you."

I suddenly became quite suspicious of this Jamie character, despite his innocent appearance.

"But really, you felt nothing?" Brooke insisted.

"Really," I stared flatly back at her. "Nothing at all. I was really annoyed, actually, that's all."

"You don't... feel anything for Jann? Or Jamie?"

"Why should I?"

Again, she scowled. "This is odd," she said quietly, more to herself it seemed.

"Brooke, I don't know these people! I can't put my finger on it, but I feel violated. I want to know what happened!"

"Then maybe you should ask them? Or Jann, actually? Yeah, you should ask him." She still appeared confused.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "And I suppose I wouldn't be able to do that until Saturday, right?"

"I..." she glanced down at her phone. "...I guess so."

I stared at her phone. I was ready to grab the device from her, but I controlled myself. She had to have all their numbers in there. But I held myself back. We may have been superficial friends back in high school, but I didn't truly know Brooke. She was open with me, but it was surface knowledge. She knew less of me than I of her. And I didn't know her that well, either. And furthermore, she wasn't aware that I had intentions toward that contact list on her cell.

"I need to go to class," Brooke said, suddenly breaking the silence.

"What?" She hadn't mentioned going to a class, but okay. This was her house, her life that I had intruded on. I immediately backed down, muttering an apology. I started to feel bad for interrogating her like this, but a quick glance at her told me she was hardly cognizant of my perceived offense.

I watched her get up and dump the remaining three quarters cup of coffee down the drain.

"Are you alright?" I asked her. This was the same demeanor she'd had when she came back yesterday.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Like a mindless ghost, she slipped away to her room. I remained at the kitchen table. I really didn't know what to make of any of this: the conversation, her behavior, I felt like I'd stepped into some weird society. Damn those people last night. This was her so-called crew? What a bunch of whackos!

I spent the remainder of the day looking through the things I'd brought up with me. By the time I heard her return after 3pm, I was still undecided upon how long to stay. I'd regressed into the reasons why I'd come up here in the first place. In getting away from all the personal demons in Jersey, I'd somehow stepped into the demons of another life.


	10. Ten

Thankfully, Brooke was her normal self when she returned. At least the version I'd met when I arrived here twenty-four hours ago. I wasn't going to push the issue about last night again, though. I didn't want to risk her falling into that strange depression again.

We decided to do a little food shopping and the rest of the afternoon passed by pleasantly enough. By the time we returned, we were starving and I whipped up some dinner. I enjoyed cooking. She showed me her art portfolio. I told her about my writing and reading hobbies. We connected our extraneous social accounts. We talked about work. She was just your average twenty-something old who still had yet to find her niche. Graphic arts interested her enough, but I was too polite to let her know that it didn't seem like her calling. Well, the face and mouth talks – I did assure her that it was who you know that brings in the money. Talent is often overlooked.

Again, just like the night before, around six, she told me she was going out.

This was fine with me. During our travels earlier today, I'd seen some bookstores that piqued my interest, so I too hopped into my little Toyota after she left and I drove off. I'd studied the local map, and the layout of New Haven came to me easily enough. After a while, you realize that every city has the same streets. The only difference is that the names change, but the streets are the same. New Haven was hardly like my familiar Hoboken – it was quainter, smaller, like a slightly cleaner version of Bayonne.

Used book stores was my weakness. Nearly an hour passed before I walked out with two new books under my arm. I thought about my library down at my father's apartment in Hoboken. I'd done my best not to think about that town, but it was hard. Only one day, and I was already feeling melancholy. At this rate, I'd only last one week up here. Not even.

No.

I had to fight those feelings.

I needed this. I needed to see things differently. I needed to separate myself from the past. I needed to change my perspective. Because life, essentially, is all about perspective. And no two persons are the same.

The sun had already set and tonight was a little warmer than last night. Warm enough to drive with the window half down. Maybe I'd do a little touring. So that's exactly what I did, and I never regret sightseeing. It was the prestigious town of Yale University, after all.

And a small world. Somewhere around 8pm and at the stop sign of some street, I noticed a small group with a familiar figure standing at the corner.

Jamie.

My first instinct was to talk to him. Second instinct: just keep moving. Third: what is he doing there? Fourth: maybe I should spy on him. Fifth: no, just keep moving. See, one more car ahead of me at the stop sign. I have ten seconds to decide.

My heart raced. All the questions from this morning came rushing back at me. Five seconds. The car in front of me was edging forward. Jamie wasn't talking to anyone, but he was certainly part of this group of two guys and a girl I'd never seen before.

The car in front of me pulled away, and I took his spot.

What to do! Another car was approaching me from behind. I had to decide, now, because there was only one car approaching the crossway. It'd drive by in a matter of seconds, and then it was my turn. I glanced over to the group standing a mere ten feet from my car.

And Jamie was looking right at me.

My heart fell through the car and kept going through the pavement. I was frozen and hardly noticed the oncoming car pass, opening the intersection for me. The car behind me had just stopped.

Always go with your first instinct, right? My thoughts straightened in a flash. I made a right turn signal, double-checking the intersection before turning. As it were, there were two open parking spots on the street, and I pulled in easily.

A quick glance into the rear view mirror showed me that he was already walking my way.

Oh my – what am I going to say? Why am I doing this? Commence the regret! Being compulsive is not me! My hands were shaking, my heart racing. Why did I pull over! I should've just kept looking straight ahead, why even let him know I''d recognized him!

"Asshole," I muttered to myself, seeing he was quite close now. That statement had two subjects: myself and him.


	11. Eleven

A tapping on the window brought me out of my misery and back into the real world. You are not Dan; you have no right.

But I rolled the window down anyway.

"I know your face," he said, an easy smile on his face.

I couldn't muster up a smile. "Hi." I'm so awful at this sort of thing. No attraction. This was disgraceful. I am ashamed.

"Going somewhere?"

"Ah, I was just, um, driving around." Now commence the awkwardness and self-mortification.

"You're new here?"

I guess he didn't know? "Sort of."

He smiled at me again.

What the hell am I going to do. What the hell was I going to say, what am I doing here! I was most assuredly speechless right now in every sense of the word.

He looked down sheepishly, then his dark eyes looked up at me again. "Is it okay if I join you? I wouldn't mind ditching those guys back there," he nodded his head toward the intersection.

"Sure." Why was this so easy? I watched him settle into the seat beside me and look at me.

"I'm sorry about last night."

I frowned. "That's okay." Actually, it wasn't, and suddenly my mind kicked into high gear. Screw that weekend party, screw Gabriel, and screw Jann. Especially that Jann. This was my ticket to the information I'm looking for. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't much of an actress. I wouldn't be able to pull off some intel moves here. I snuck a look at him. Yes, he looked up at me as soon as he noticed my looking his way. Just get right to it. "What happened last night?"

"I found you that way, um... Charlie? That's your name?"

"For Charlene, yes."

"Right." He shook his head then. "I uh, I wasn't there Charlie, so I don't know. But I can take a guess. Actually," he straightened himself in the seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Could you uh, I hate to bother you, but could you drive around?"

"...Sure," it took me a moment to comprehend this odd request. I checked my mirrors before backing up, then pulled out. 'I don''t know where I'm going, actually.'

"It's all one big block, you can just go in circles. I'd uh, just feel more comfortable being on the move."

Sure. "Does this have anything to do with Jann?"

He looked at me quickly. "What do you mean?"

"Brooke told me that Jann 'claimed' me." I should have done the air quotes to emphasize the sarcasm, as I'm afraid it went completely over his head. "You told Brooke not to tell Jann you were with me." I suppressed a shiver as a visual recollection of Jann swept through my mind like the swish of a curtain.

"Right... Well... Yeah, that's about it. It's... amazing, really. Jann's never had a doll before anyone can remember. Or at least none of us can, anyway. At least..."

Doll? What vulgar terminology! "I am certainly not his doll! And what do you mean 'at least'?"

Now he looked uncomfortable. Good, he's the one that came up to my car in the first place. He should've ignored me like I was planning on doing. I'm such an asshole.

"At least... well, he's feeling you out, I'm sure. That's why we should stay on the move. At least until you throw me out of the car or something."

Oh, here comes the pity party. "I wouldn't do that." Or would I? "Don't give me reason to, anyway. What is the deal with Jann, he is such a prick!"

He snickered, nervous. "That's just the way he is. That's why he's the boss."

"What kind of business you got going on there?"

He looked at me peculiarly for a second, as if not believing his ears. Then something like realization settled in. "Oh right, you're new here. Nothing special. When did you get into town?"

Now we change the subject! You had me at never. I stopped at a traffic light that just turned red and looked at him. It was eerie how much he looked like Dan. My heart softened for just a second. Not the same, I had to remind my miserable little heart. "Just yesterday. And I didn't want to go to your little party last night. Brooke forced me to."

"Only yesterday?" He looked surprised. "I'm amazed he let you in, he must know you…" he muttered to himself.

"What does that mean?" The light was still red.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter. There must be something about you... oh. Now it's starting to make sense." He looked at me, but said nothing.

I kept looking at him, but couldn't read his face. He was easy on the eyes, but an entirely different soul. "What's making sense?"

"That he claims you. Why he wants to keep you away from us is what I don't understand."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "He doesn't own me, and if he thinks he does, he's got something coming for him."

"What's that?"

I laughed, not sure if he was being quite literal of just didn't comprehend my figure of speech. "It means, there is no way he is going to take advantage of me."

"You don't have a choice." Jamie was serious.

The light turned green and I went back into gear. Before I could interject, Jamie continued.

"Jann always gets his way. It doesn't matter that he's the boss, that's just the way it is. I'm their newest member, you know, and—" he paused, glancing at our surroundings. "I think he's a little too cynical for my liking. But whether I like it or not, I'm stuck here. I've nowhere to go."

"You're not from around here?"

"I used to live down by the port. But my sire abandoned me five years ago, so the whole society abandoned me, too. I'm lucky they didn't put me on the Hunt, you know? I still wonder why. And the more years that pass, the more scared I get. That's why I went to Jann."

I'd only vaguely heard the second half of his rant. "Sire?"

He quickly glanced at me. "What?"

"Who – what – is your sire?" What was this, some medieval cult or something?

"..."

I had to slow down for another red light. "And what is this 'Hunt,' is this some jargon for your group?" The car came to a stop and I looked at him.

His eyes were unwavering, staring at me.

Was it something I said?

Then his tone changed, now quiet and monotone. "You don't know...?"

"Know what?" I raised my eyebrow, testing his alacrity. "This sire and Hunt business? No, tell me more."

"I've gotta go," he suddenly said.

He ran out of my car before I could even utter a sound of protest.

What the hell just happened?


	12. Twelve

_Much appreciation for ChocolateTeapot for their loyal following and encouraging comments!_

* * *

Brooke wasn't home when I found my way back to her place. It was eerie, creepy. Especially after that odd encounter with Jamie.

By the time I'd turned around to look for his whereabouts, he'd disappeared somewhere beyond my view. I wasn't amused, and I spent the entire drive home creating presumptions and rehearsing questions about what this weird cult was all about.

And of course it only figured that Brooke wouldn't be home to answer them. It was just after 11pm, too.

I found a snack in the frig and puttered around on my iPhone, hoping she'd come back soon. 11:45 came and went, and she still hadn't showed up.

Oh, what the hell. I texted her, asking her if she was coming home tonight.

Five minutes passed, no response.

I could only assume she was with those freaks again. I got up to get myself ready for bed.

When I pulled back the bedsheets, my phone was buzzing. I ran over to it.

Brooke: Sorry. See you tomorrow.

Well, that was that. I loathed going to bed with unanswered questions. For a quick second, I thought to send her a smartass message to pass on to Jamie, who was undoubtedly taking up her evening, but I figured it'd be best to leave it alone for now.

It took a while for me to fall asleep.

She traipsed in somewhere around six the next morning. I got up to turn on the coffee pot. She was in the bathroom, and I sat at the kitchen table awaiting her appearance, which came soon enough.

"Oh, you're up," she mumbled, walking slowly toward the table and sliding herself into the chair. She looked awful, like she'd been crying. A lot. Maybe even the whole night.

"Is everything okay? What the hell happened to you?"

Her eyes welled up, but she bit her lip and forced them back down. She was silent.

"Hold on." I got up, pouring us both a cup of coffee. I preferred mine black, but hers she took light and sweet. How aggravating. I returned to her quickly, and she didn't even respond to the steaming cup beside her hand. "What happened?" I tried my best to contain my impatience. This couldn't be good.

Again, the tears welled up, and this time, she put her head down into her arms and began crying.

My heart dropped. I felt terrible. I reached my hand out to her, touching her arm.

A couple minutes passed before she picked up her head. I had a tissue ready for her. She blew her nose, glanced at me, then her eyes welled up again.

I handed her another tissue.

My coffee was nearly done by the time she was somewhat composed. Not that I was pushy, but damn it, I wanted to know what happened!

"Gab-Gabriel... broke up with me. He... he said I made too much trouble." And she broke down again.

Trouble? I sat back in my chair, folding my arms. What in the world was he talking about? What trouble? They laid around all day high or drunk or doing whatever lackadaisical things they did. Trouble? "What the hell does he mean by that?"

"It's... it's not your fault, really..."

My fault? I scowled. "Does this have to do with Jamie?"

She looked discomfited by that question, which consequently gave me the answer I was looking for. That rat bastard. Yet, I didn't understand what I'd done or said? So he'd gone and snitched on something we talked about?

I leaned forward toward her. "Brooke, I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have stopped – this is my fault; you don't have to be nice about it. But I don't understand why—"

"There's nothing to understand," she picked her head up, looking at me. Her expression was flat, her eyes red. But her tears had suddenly dried up. "They're a secret society, Charlie. It's not your fault. They're the ones who are hung up on laws and etiquette and all this stupid shit. And the irony! They call themselves Anarchs! Anarchs my ass, they're just as much slaves to the rules like the rest of their kind."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. " 'Their' kind? What are you talking about?" Definitely some cult. "Does this have anything to do with Sires and Hunts like what Jamie said to me last night?"

She tsked, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Charlie. I don't know how else to say this to you, but they're vampires. Rebel vampires."


	13. Thirteen

I don't know if the pause was her own shock of what she just said, or if she was just testing my reaction. Basically, I gave her a blank stare. She wasn't smirking. Was she serious? "You think?" I blurted out.

"I know. You probably think I'm crazy, and in any other circumstance, I would've let you find out for yourself. But I'm fucking furious at them. They punish me for one of their own fuckups? Are they kidding me?"

I could assume she was referring to Jamie. "No, wait, seriously, vampires? Brooke, really?" So I generally knew my way around Dracula and Lestat, but who was she kidding? "Why aren't you a vampire then?"

"I'm... a blood doll. I thought you were going to be one, too. But apparently, Jann's the one that threw me out, so I guess that's not happening."

I knitted my brows, trying to comprehend this situation. "Blood doll?" Is this what Dan meant by doll?

She looked bored. "I give him my blood. I get a tiny bit of his. It's an even better high than sex. You'd have to experience it to know."

So you let them use you for a snack? I chewed on my cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter. This was surreal! "Okay, so now you're thrown out. I'm sorry about you and Gabriel, I really am. But what's this politics thing you were talking about? They let you out like this without debriefing you or something?"

"I have two choices." Her tears had long dried by now. "I have to leave today, or I have to go on my own and blackmail them. And I'm not leaving."

"Leave? Why, are they going to kill you now, like the mafia or something?"

"I'm not joking."

We stared at each for a few seconds before I answered her. "So how are you going to blackmail them?"

"I need to do some research. I... need to break into Jann's house."

"What? Why?"

"Charlie, they're vampires! They're asleep during the day! It's my only chance. I'll keep my mouth shut about them, sure, except for you of course, too late for that, but I'll force them to stay at bay. And hopefully keep them at bay against you, too."

"Hey, now I'm dragged into this mess?"

She frowned.

Oh, right. This was my fault. I groaned and audibly exhaled. "I need another cup of coffee."

I refilled her cup as well as mine.

"And what is at Jann's house, may I ask?"

"I need to find someone in the Camarilla. If they see me with one, they'll think twice about showing up around me. They're rogues, outcasts, they''re hated by the Camarilla. They wouldn't dare expose themselves."

"Mm," I put my finger up, finishing my sip. "Hold on, what is this Camarilla? They sound just as bad as these rogues." If I was going to get any information out of her, I may as well play along. But she really looked serious. I wished I could take a time out to guffaw. Let out a few gails of mirth, as it were. But she looked pretty gleeful about her "plan."

"The Camarilla is like the main group of vampires. There's them, and there's the Sabbat, and then there're the Anarchs. Jann and his group are something a sub-group of the Anarchs who are trying to infiltrate the East Coast. The Anarchs are from California."

"Sooo they're kind of like a vampire government? Like Republicans and Democrats?"

"Ah..."

Apparently, government and politics were not her strong points. Her face contorted with conflicting thoughts.

"I guess, something like that."

But she had enough brains and interest for vampire societies. Please. If this kept up, I'd have to leave the room. But I couldn't do that, that'd just be plain old rude. "So how are you going to find someone in the Camarilla?"

"I need names. Jann had a recent probe into the thespian society at Yale, and I know they've mentioned this Camarilla guy in there who they're trying to avoid. This guy Shand or something like that. But I don't know enough about him, so I need to get into their files."

I could picture a vampire's filing cabinet. Must be pretty dusty. And big. Had to account for centuries, right? "I don't know if that''s a good idea... are you sure they're going to, uh, kill you?"

"That's what I'm talking about!" Brooke's urgency was beginning to unnerve me. "If it weren't for Gabriel, I'd already be dead. He gave me today to make a run for it. They're helpless in the daylight, duh, so they won't know a damn thing. In, out, done."

Somehow, this didn't really feel all too well thought-out. "Geez, Brooke, I don't understand why they want to kill you? No one would believe you anyway! What do they think, that you're going to write a news article about them or something?"

She glared at me. "Believe it or not, Charlie. I have a problem, and I'm going to deal with it. Maybe I will write a news article about them. Write a book. Make a movie. And why not! They don't own me anymore, they threw me out, so how dare they think they can still use me!"

Technically, they were probably supposed to snuff you last night. And I still couldn't believe she was being serious. "Ah, well, did you want my help or anything?" I shouldn't be asking such a dumb question.

She gave me a one-over, deep in her thoughts.

I took another sip of coffee. Run away from tragedy, take a leap of compulsion to temporarily live with an acquaintance I hadn't seen in ten years, and now I find myself conversing with a lunatic who apparently may be on some hit list or other of some paranormal supernatural fictional specie. It has been a most eventful week.

But my heart sank before the thought in my mind fully formed. Jann did have a peculiarly disturbing air about him. Jamie, no. He just came off as your average idiot. But Jann... and that group in that sitting room did feel a little... ethereal. As if I were the ghost, and they were the living. I physically shivered, hoping Brooke didn't notice as I took another sip of my coffee.

Brooke couldn't be serious, could she?

"I need you at Yale. You need to look through their records."

"Oh no," I shook my head. "I'm no hacker, and I''m not going in there demanding to look at their files, either. Maybe you should call the cops?"

That got her quiet again. What, she didn't think of that before? I didn't want to get my hands dirty and that seemed like a perfectly viable and legal idea. "Tell them they seduced you into their cult in a mansion and have them surrounded and arrested. Then when the daytime comes around – poof, they're gone, right?"

She frowned, not looking all too happy with me. "It's Jann I'd like dead, not all of them."

Well, so she wanted that guy dead? Kaput? A cadaverous caper all around, huh? This time, I couldn't help but smirk. I put my head down immediately, running my hands through my hair hoping she didn't notice my expression of incredulity. I ended up rubbing my eyes, pulling my hands down my face. Was this really happening? "Don't you figure he's got guards or something during the daytime? He's a renegade, you don't think he has protection while he sleeps?"

"I need to know who Shand is."

"For crying out loud, have you tried Google?"

Her mouth formed a straight line. Her eyes told me that that had indeed passed her mind. I grabbed my phone, pulling up the requested data.

There was none.

"You sure that's not some code name?"

"We're back to square one. I need to get over there. I'm going to scope it out. You stay here in case I need you to do something. My plan is to be with this Shand guy by the time they all wake up tonight. I'm probably on top of Jann's to-do list, so I need to have my ass covered."

And what makes her think that this Shand guy would be friendly with her? But I kept my mouth shut.

She got up, draining her coffee and zipping up her coat. "I'm going to watch the place first to see who's there, so I'll probably be calling you so I can stay awake."

"Get an espresso," I advised, watching her rush out.

What the hell was going on?


	14. Fourteen

_ninja of fallen Sakura & ChocolateTeapot... thank you! 3 3_

* * *

I sat out on her porch chain-smoking like a fiend. This was becoming an all too common habit as of late. What was a little excitement to make me forget the former trials of the previous month? I felt shallow and superficial right then and there. Dan, I'm sorry. I didn''t put you in that house, but I didn't mean my curses on your dichotomous behavior to land yourself dead. I told you she was a witch. I told you everything that was true, and yet you never listened.

Damn you.

I escaped your haunting shadows only to enter into another world of negativity. I swear I'm not cursed.

Vampires, huh? This had to be some charade on their part. But I couldn't lie to myself and say that Jann didn't have some sort of abnormal presence about him.

I worried about Brooke. If I were in her position, and if I truly feared them, I'd have already been halfway to Hong Kong by now. Or at least the next state over. Why risk it? What the hell had she gotten herself into?

The sun had risen to a comfortably warming level now and I went back inside. No sooner had I finished putting the coffee cup in the sink when the doorbell rang.

The delivery man, perhaps? I peeked out of the front window, catching a glimpse of the backside of a female figure at the door. I paused, watching her swish around nervously. Well what do you know, I recognized her as one of the girls from the night before last. Her name? I had no idea.

What could it hurt?

I went to the door and opened it, studying her surprised reaction when she saw it wasn't Brooke.

"Did she leave? Who are you?"

"I'm her, ah, her roommate. Who are you?"

"I didn't know she had one... I'm Sara. You wouldn't happen to know where she went, would ya?"

"I do, but I'm afraid she doesn't want anyone to know."

She was quiet for a moment. A light sparked in her eye as she looked up at me. "Did she leave?"

"Maybe."

"I hope so. She isn't answering her phone, so I was worried something had happened to her."

"She's fine, for now." I wasn't sure what she was about, and I wasn't about to volunteer any dangerous information. This Sara girl seemed worried enough though. How long had Brooke been in the club, I wondered? Were all of them close?

"Well I won't bother you. Donna's looking for her, too, so don't be surprised if she comes around. She's short, dark haired, kind of bitchy." She leaned over, putting a hand to her mouth. "Well, kind of a big bitch. Don't trust her at all."

At this point, I didn't trust anyone. I nodded my thanks, and Sara left.

I went inside, made a cup of my favorite green tea and sat in the armchair by the front window, hoping to relax my nerves. This was getting strange. In this day of technology, who visited anyone anymore? I browsed again for this elusive "Shand" online, but found nothing. Perhaps that was just a handle, not an actual name. I was no hacker, I knew my basic code, but I didn't do the illegal stuff. And sure enough, as I picked my head up to look at the passing light traffic, a silver car slowed and parked directly across the street.

And who else but a short dark-haired lady exited the small SUV and began for this house. Donna, she says? I didn't recall seeing her the other night, but the way she stomped with authority across the street, I suppose she knew what was up.

I was ready and waiting by the door when the bell rang. Apparently, Brooke wasn't taking her calls either, it seemed.

She was just as surprised to see me answer. Was she thinking she'd inconveniently pull her out of bed or something? "Hi," I said first, ignoring the flash of annoyance across her face. She did indeed look like a pleasant individual.

That'd be sarcasm, in case you missed it. Those curls surely complimented that hard face. She caught herself, greeting me. "Hi—" That was a bit too awkward for her liking, I could tell. "I'm looking for Brooke."

"Ah, she's not here, can I take a message?"

"Did she leave?"

"Leave?" I knew that whatever I said in the next second would direct the rest of this conversation, be it short or long. "No, she's still in town."

Aha. This time, Donna couldn't hide her emotions no matter how hard she tried. I didn't miss that nanosecond of a sneer no matter how sweet the proceeding smile was. "Oh, did she say where she was going? Are you her roommate? I don't think we've ever met."

Her words were syrupy and just as malicious and conniving. "Yes we're roommates, and no, we've never met."

"Oh!" She took an extraordinary and exaggerated amount of effort into this. "I'm Donna, it's nice to meet you! Funny, she's never mentioned you before, and I've known her for a long time!"

There were at least two digs in that statement I noted as I shook her incoming hand. "Can I come in? We usually go out for a coffee in the mornings, but I got worried when she didn't answer her phone so I figured I'd stop by. What'd you say your name was?"

"I'm Charlie." Was she implying that she was barging in? Why certainly. She stepped toward me and proceeded to go right past me and inside the home. I closed the door with mild amusement. She's been here before, there was no doubt, as I watched her filling the tea kettle with water and knowing which cabinet held the mugs.

She set up our tea and sat down at the table, her face looking expectantly up at me.

So I promptly joined her at the kitchen table.


	15. Fifteen

"Do you know where she went?"

"No." This one called for outright lies from my end, not a runaround. This one was a schemer. I wasn't beating around the bush with this Donna.

Unfortunately, I don't think she bought it. She was smarter than I wanted her to be. "So how long have you been living here? I heard you're new."

I noticed that Sara had no idea who I was. Some were more observant than others. "Yeah, I've only been here for a couple days."

"Really now." She seemed mightily interested in this little fact.

Excellent.

I would just string her along for some more information. "I heard that Jann took an interest in you the other night," she continued, eyeing me. "Shocking, for someone who's just showed up in the area."

Shocking, how much she'd "heard" about me, considering we've never met. She must be quite the busybody. Let's throw her for a loop. "Are you a blood doll, too?"

The subtle grin was accompanied with an equally subtle glint in her eye. "Is that what you're hoping to be?"

"Maybe," I covertly lowered my face, taking a sip of my herbal tea. I chose something non-caffeinated because I had the notion that tonight would be eventful. Though I hoped not. I needed to save the caffeine boost for later. I would probably need it. I heard her sniff as she too took a sip of her tea, ignoring my suggestion. But I would insist. "I want to know more about this Jann guy."

"You're asking the wrong person," she was quick to reply.

Stonewalling. Okay, I can deal. I'd handled enough of that when I had to tolerate Dan's extracurricular affairs. "You weren't there that night, were you?"

"No, but I heard some things..."

I met her expectant gaze. Playing coy? She knows manipulation when she hears it because she's so damn good at it. The best way to handle these sorts of people is to keep taking a go when they least expect it. They'll lose their cool at some point. "Jann's the one that threw out Brooke, right?"

"Yes. And it's better they get rid of her than Jamie. They'll probably be coming after you, too, just in case you snitch."

"Why the hell would I snitch?" I tried not to let her perfect sense affect me. Why hadn't I thought of that? I needed to cover up my concern. "I actually had the idea they'd get rid of Brooke and snatch me up instead."

Her frown told me she didn't like that idea. Guess I was competition to her.

I leaned over, feigning closeness. "Unless you're telling me you have eyes for Jann, hm?"

Her scowl deepened. "No, that's your business. But if you think Jann's going to be fooled into some love business with you, you''ve got this all wrong. We don't operate that way. That kind of immaturity tells me you're definitely getting whacked, too."

Whacked? I didn't entirely hide my scoff as I shifted away from her. Let's see how much she knew. "Somehow, I don't think so. He's the one that kept coming after me."

"You must have something he wants. Jann never pursues anything personal," she looked down her nose at me.

"How long have you been with them?" Nevermind all those "we" statements, Miss Donna. She thought she was all that and then some now, did she?

"That's none of your business."

"Well if I'm getting snuffed, then what the hell? Who cares what I know."

"They'll make you suffer more for what you know."

Ah, the sympathy card. The fake kind. I sipped my tea to conceal my grin. "I'm not worried."

"You should be!" Some wild look in her eye this time. I devoured every word from her mouth. "You think this is some kind of club? Some kind of joke? You think we give a damn about humans? You're all just tools. Even if you play the tiniest part of our schemes – and you can't even understand our schemes, our minds are so much more intelligent than yours! You can play the smallest role for us, and then we'll get rid of you without a second thought. We think in decades and centuries, not days and weeks. Some of you are so small, you can only comprehend hours! Pathetic, all of you. If you think you're somehow joining us, you are sadly mistaken. So pitifully mistaken!" Her laugh barked throughout the apartment. "You? You're a nobody! And to tell you the truth, I'm surprised Brooke lasted this long! She must've had a little something extra for Gabe to be picking at her all this time."

What a tirade! I shook my head, forcing her to stop in her prattle. " 'We?' I don't see you cowering in the sunlight. And you think Brooke's been in your little club for a long time? That just shows me how long you've been in." Sometimes, you just have to say it like it is.

She sputtered, alternating between glaring at me and trying her damndest not to look too angry. Her comeback was quick enough. "Trust me, you'll never get it." She pushed her cup away. "And don't think they won't hear about what you're expecting! Just wait!"

"Go take a nap," I said, neglecting a parting epithet for her.

She huffed and stood up, making straight for the door. Her hand was on the knob, and as I expected, she quickly turned around to glare at me. "If you know what's good for you, you'd better get a plane ticket right now and go far, far away. Should you decide to stick around here like an asshole, you better believe I'll be bringing them right to you."

"Gotta find me, first," I shrugged.

She ground her teeth and left.


	16. Sixteen

Ain't that some shit? I laughed, shaking my head as I turned back to my tea. It'd gone cool already. Damn, how it goes cold so fast. Just like how quickly my mind switched back to Donna's roundabout threats. She was probably most certainly right about my name being on the list, too. After all, I was the one that started this fiasco to begin with.

I sighed, nearly finishing the last of my tea. I loved the soot on the bottom, hot or not. Now what? And what happened to Brooke? It was nearly 10am already, she should've been there by now. Or at least calling me. I had to get in touch with her.

I suddenly felt very helpless. I'd stepped in shit, and I didn't even know where it came from or how to clean it off.

Vampires? Seriously? I'd laugh if I didn't feel like crying at the moment. Had to be the stress. Maybe I should just book it back to Jersey. But I couldn't do that to Brooke. She'd stuck her neck out for me, maybe even literally.

The situation was most twisted. What a strange existence. Had she really been fucking around with this cult for over a year? Ick.

I didn't realize how quiet it was until my cell buzzed and I nearly jumped out of my seat. It was Brooke. I picked up immediately.

"Hey! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. There's like, people going in and out of here. There's no way I can sneak in there. I don't know what to do."

"Well that sucks. Not to interrupt you, but there's people going in and out of here, too. Sara stopped by to check up on you, and Donna just left."

"Donna? That fucking bitch, what did she want?"

I smirked to myself as I made my way outside for the means to ease my anxiety. "She's a nosy bitch, huh? I told her to take a nap because she was getting pretty hyped up. But she did say something that bothered me a bit, and I think she's right."

She sounded tired. "What."

"That they'd be out to snuff me too, tonight."

"Oh. I don't know, maybe. They were really pissed at me last night, so I don't really know. Did she say she heard that from someone? Or do you think she was just talking shit like usual?"

"Ah, I don't know. It makes sense, though. But don't worry about me, what about you?"

"If the traffic in and out of here doesn't lighten up by twelve, I'm heading over to Uni. I only have so much time."

"When do they get up, the vampires?" Damn my spontaneous ideas. I was already planning ways on stalling their search for her. I nearly caught myself actually believing this ridiculousness!

"Ah, around five, six. I think Jann gets up the earliest, being that he's the oldest. Special powers, all that."

"Oh, well, listen, do you have time for questions?"

"Yeah, sure. No one's seen me, or at least noticed me yet, we can talk."

"Okay… what sort of special powers are we talking about here?"

She paused for a moment. "Well… it's hard to explain. Honestly, I mean I know they have superpowers, but I really couldn't describe them to you. Not that I don't want to, it's just… well, they''re vampires. It's… hard to explain."

I suppressed the urge to snicker. Right? The supernatural, who could explain? It was indubitably inexplicable, naturally. "I dunno… I was just thinking, maybe I could help you out with this. I feel bad, I know this is all my fault."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Brooke chided. "They're the ones who took in that idiot Jamie who thought you knew all about them. Did I tell you the truth about them? No. That's their fault for taking in such a dummy, not mine. You're smart enough as they come."

"Well thanks. How long has that guy Jamie been in anyway?"

"Only since a few months ago. Seems he just assumed you knew about them like any dummy would."

"Yeah, it seems like he needs a few more brain cells. I'm really sorry about this."

"No. I know I'm going to get withdrawals, but don't take it personally. I'm more pissed than needy, believe me."

Withdrawals? What were they, on drugs? It had to be drugs. So there was the undeniable proof of my initial suspicions. But with drugs came a realistic foreboding of danger. Something I wasn't comfortable with, something I'd seen enough of in my lifetime to know that drugs made people irrational and unpredictable. And dangerous. This wasn't good. "Well if there's anything you'd like me to do, I'll do my best to help."

"Thanks. There really isn't a whole lot you can do. There may be some legitimacy to what Donna said, but… I really don''t know. They never mentioned you last night."

"What did they say?"

"Something about my uh, indiscretions or something like that, and Jann never put the blame on Jamie, though I could see right through what happened — Jamie told everyone what happened."

"What'd he say?"

"That you didn't know what he was talking about, something about Blood Hunts and Sires, and so he ran away as soon as he could."

"Yeah, that's true. If he didn't run away, he wouldn't have made such a scene. Oh, whatever. So they blamed you, huh?"

"Yeah, for bringing you around."

"Gabe gave you the go-ahead, didn't he?"

"Yeah…"

"It's their own damn fault, Brooke. Jann's just trying to shift the blame from himself. He didn't trane these guys right, so no wonder they're fucking up.' Look at me, defending her against some fanatic weirdo cult. It's so obvious. I'd really like to give that asshole a piece of my mind." And I meant that.

"I don't know, Jann is really weird. Like, scary weird. That's those super powers I'm talking about. I wouldn't mess with him. He's got some staring mind control thing going on. I avoid him as much as I can, he gives me the creeps."

So it wasn't just me. That wasn't a good sign. I'd never met anyone like Jann before. It was almost as if he had the ability to put you into an instantaneous hypnosis. Was he one in a million? That would make sense.

Slightly.

"So there's no one else you can go to about this Shand guy?"

"You know what, I'm just going to go to Uni. Now I'm starting to get a little worried."

"Will you be okay? You want me to come with?"

"Maybe after. I don't know. I'm going to have to crash at some point, you know?"

"Right," I answered, exhaling. I wished I could help, I really did. "Oh!" A sudden idea sparked in my mind. "Question: do they all sleep at Jann's house?"

"I think so."

"Interesting. Alright, I'll let you go. You sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah. I'll see you soon."

"See you."


	17. Seventeen

If I wasn't apprehensive before about all this, now I didn't know what to consider of my feelings. I had my doubts. No, I didn't believe this vampire title, not in the least. Next, I'll be hearing about zombies and ghosts and werewolves!

Please.

I rolled my eyes to no one in particular and crushed my cigarette butt. Feeling helpless, I spent the rest of the morning mindlessly staring at the moving scenery.

She came back a little before one, after I'd just finished a small lunch. She looked awful.

"I'm fucked," she sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Don't say that," I frowned, sliding into the seat across her. "What happened? Did you find out anything?"

"Frank Shand, that's his name. He's an assistant fine art teacher, not yet a professor, for the one hundred classes. I got his home address, so I went there, and he doesn't live there. Like, there's a young couple that lives there and they had no idea who I was talking about. Not a Shand in sight."

"He fibbed his address?"

"It's... actually pretty typical for vampires to do that. I kind of thought so."

That makes sense, I shrugged. "So now what?"

"I don't know. I did get a phone number for him, too, but it's kind of pointless to call him at this hour." She pulled out a post-it and I stared down at it. A phone number as well as an address was on there.

Ideas. "Go take a nap, Brooke. You need it. What time do you want me to wake you?"

"Yeah, I'm going to collapse. Uhm... three? Two? I really don't want to sleep."

I could see that she was starting to get scared. This wasn't a good sign. I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. I'm going to do some research into this number, I may be able to trace it."

"You think so?"

"If I can, I'll wake you at three, okay? If I don't, I'll wake you at two, how's that?"

"Okay," Brooke quietly acquiesced and slowly got back up to her feet.

Poor thing, I sympathized for her. She was nearly going on thirty hours. I'd be a monster at twenty-four, and forget about anything past that!

So I did my research. The number most recently belonged to a George Jolly, interesting name, but I kept at it. Maybe the phone was under a moniker, too. I called from my Jersey cell phone. An out of state caller might make him think it's a sales call. Hopefully. No matter. With a few dollars, I was able to track down the address of the owner.

It was the odd number from the post-it's address. The house across the street, perhaps?

Does he have some sort of telepathic order that automatically steals his mail from the homeowner's mailboxes? I rolled my eyes and dialed in the address. It was only a short eight-minute drive from here. That felt a little frightening, though I couldn't figure out why.

One thirty. I was doing pretty well in my research, I thought, so three o'clock would be her wakeup time. I grabbed my coat and slipped out the front door, making sure I had the spare house key with me. Hopefully, she'd keep sleeping like a log the entire time I was out.

The street was toward the wharf. Two days in town and I was getting rather familiar with the sites and street names already. I took the same route she'd taken me on my first night here, and the address wasn't far from the beaten path.

The quaint street greeted me warmly. The sun was nearly blinding on my dashboard. It was one of those perfect days with a cool breeze and the hot bright daylight that warmed your skin to the bone.

I found a parking spot a house away from the two Victorian-styled homes that sat across from each other. There was a small front lawn, enough that the houses weren't falling over into the street. There, on the even numbered house (the address he'd given to Uni), played a mother with a young son and a little white terrier. I could hear a lawn mower from someone's backyard. The odd numbered house across the street was equally inviting, though no one was in sight.

Frank Shand and George Jolly. Who was who? I was pretty positive that young couple had no clue who this George Jolly was, either. So let's go along with the vampire concept. They hate light, right? A shed isn't even good enough for them. I could see each of the homes had basements, but they all had short windows that lined the sides.

Crawlspaces.

That wouldn't work.

Even the cubbies underneath the porch were brighter than the basements. Where would someone hide from the sunlight? And let alone how successful could they sneak out after dark?

Again, I rolled my eyes to no one in particular.

I noted the mother shooing her child inside, the little terrier going right back up into the house after him. She closed the front door, and just like that, the street was suddenly empty and quiet.

Did they notice me? I looked around. There was only one car up the street from behind me, but aside from that, it sounded as if the lawn mower had stopped, too. Oh, maybe that was hubby going inside, that's why they went.

And then a small black sedan slowed down beside my little Toyota and I froze in my seat, my heart thudding in my chest.

But it passed on by ne and rolled to a stop in front of the odd-numbered house.

A tall thin man in a button-down and slacks exited from the driver's door, walked up to the mailbox, did something with it (his body was blocking my view, though I was quite positive he was withdrawing something from it), and returned to his vehicle.

What was I, in the movies or something?

The black sedan drove off as slowly as it had come.

It was do it or die, and never had that meant true until now, I thought bitterly.

I waited until he was nearly at the end of the street before I slowly pulled out of my spot. Black Ford Fusion, license plate ending in WKZ, turning right. As soon as he disappeared, I raced down the last two hundred feet and turned my right-blinker signal on.

A car passed in front of me, then the lane was clear.

With one car in between us, the chase was on.


	18. Eighteen

p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"These are the times I wish I had a GPS. I was pretty nifty with directions and maps, but this was all new. He was going onto the northbound interstate now, and I glanced down at the clock./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I had no idea where I was./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"It was a quarter after two. Well, I was in hot pursuit. I'd just observe where he stopped at and it'd be easy to make my way back to Brooke's house, hopefully before three. Either way, I'd call her. We'd probably end up going back out to this location anyway./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Three things. He had to have taken something out of it. I'd observed people enough to recognize that sort of movement. Second, why in the world would someone take mail onto the interstate? What the hell was all this about? And third, it's much easier to pace someone on a highway than a single-lane road. Except these are the times I wished I had an SUV. I could hardly see his truck./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I kept glancing at the Ford's driver, hoping not to find him noticing me. So far, I seemed to be in the clear./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"And luckily, he had his turn signal on for the next exit./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Traffic light, I let a car get in between us, I nearly cut the red light at the third intersection, damn those slow drivers, a left, another left, and then we were on a straightaway with two-storied rinky-dink businesses along each side. And then he slowed, turning his signal to make a parallel parking job. I stopped, taking a quick look around at the addresses. I pulled out my phone as he slid into the spot. Nice parking job, if I do say so myself, I grinned slightly. I vroomed around him, feigning disgruntlement for having to had waited for him./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"The incoming intersection was a little too far away for my liking and I craned my eyes into that tiny rear-view mirror to try and see where exactly he was heading to./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Looked like whatever was right before that laundromat./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Good, works for me./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I went back around the block and then back onto the same street. This time, I was getting an address./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"As coincidence would have it, another car was parallel-parking directly in front of that laundromat./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Yeah, there was an alley in between the two buildings. It was fenced in, but there was a gate, too./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"A spontaneous thought made me consider also grabbing a spot nearby and sitting watch for a minute or two. I'd typically found that ignoring your instincts led you into more trouble than had you not. So I took the first spot I could find a couple of cars down./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"It was just as well, I chuckled to myself, because my phone rang./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"It was Brooke./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I picked up./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"She was frantic. "Charlie, where are you! Is everything okay?"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Ah, calm down!" I put the gear into park, locking the car doors just in case, though I left my driver's window open a crack. I reached for my cigarettes as I explained. "I traced the number to a different name, George Jolly, but get this: the address for Jolly was for the house across the street from Uni's address. Go figure, right?"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Really," she croaked. I could hear rustling in her background. She must've just gotten out of bed./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""So I went back to the address and I sat and waited for a little bit. And believe it or not, this black car pulls up and takes something out of this 'Jolly's' mailbox. So I followed him. I'm not exactly sure where I am though, exit 14 on the Interstate."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Uhm, that's kind of a crappy neighborhood."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Well the guy's in a halfway-decent suit. Can't be a vampire, right?"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""No, not at this time of day."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Oh right, well anyway, here's the address of the place I'm at. He went into some alley in between the laundromat and... some bodega of some kind. I was going to come back for you anyway. I wish you'd slept in more."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""I'm fine, just text the address to me. I'll be right over there, okay? Keep watch, would you? Vampires are really hard to track, I can't believe you got this far!"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Not really... but you said this guy isn't a vampire—"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"She'd hung up already. Oh well, I shrugged. It wouldn't take long for her to get here, I was sure. Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops. It was early enough that traffic was still bearable. I sent the text over to her and stuffed my phone in my pants pocket./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I glanced up at my mirror to check the area, and my heart nearly jumped out of my throat when I saw someone rounding the rear end of my car./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I pretended not to notice. But I did notice that the ash on my cigarette was about an inch long./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I needed to ash./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"And someone was standing at my door./p 


	19. Nineteen

p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"My first thought was that I hope someone would clip him. No, that wasn't a nice thing to think./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Just act casual./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I went to ash./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Maybe I'd ash his pants./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I looked up at him, feigning mild surprise at his presence. Well so I ashed on his pants anyway before exclaiming, "Oh, I'm so sorry!"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"It was the same man who'd picked up Jolly's mail. Or Shand's mail. Somebody's mail. He was middle-aged, cropped blond hair and crystal grey-blue eyes. A little terrifying, actually. He just stared at me, his face expressionless./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Maybe I did get ash on his pants. Maybe even a spark. 'I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Can I help you?' The window was cracked a little too much for my liking. Would it be rude if I took it up a few inches, possibly?/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""You did see me all the way from Center Street. Who are you."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Actually, ah," I wanted to say "crap" but that would've been rather juvenile. 'I was wondering the same thing about you.' Bluff, or not to bluff? Again with that vile instinct. I fought it down constantly. "It's not common for someone's mail to be delivered to a certain address, only to be picked up and delivered elsewhere. I presume this is a common occurrence."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Who are you."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""I'm sorry, is that a question?" I inhaled on my cigarette, debating if I should direct the smoke his way or not./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""It's a demand."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Are you George Jolly?" I blew the smoke next to his face. Unfortunately, the breeze blew it back in his face. Oops. "Shand, perhaps?" I met his cold stare./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Get out of the car."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Give me a minute, would ya?" What would Brooke do if I weren't here when she showed up? I quelled the fear bubbling up in my throat./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Out."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I noticed him glance down at the internal door handle. He could reach it and open my door himself, if he tried. So much for keeping my doors locked. I should've known. I pulled on my cigarette, letting loose an angry cloud. "I'm waiting on a friend, actually. Give her like ten minutes?" I could've patted myself on my back. After all, Brooke did want to be beside a different vampire when the sun went down, which was in about two and a half hours. I couldn't understand the logic of it, but I supposed she knew more about this creepy cult than I./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Too bad." And he began to reach for the door handle./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"My hand reacted faster than my brain. The cherry of my cigarette jabbed into his hand, spilling sparks over both of us. I yipped, shaking my hand as the orange ashes burnt my skin. It felt as if there were a thousand pin pricks on it./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"But he was hardly fazed! A million ideas rushed through my head, and I rejected all of them. I was parallel-parked, damn it! There was no way I could zoom out and come back when Brooke showed up. I could try and stall, but his hand was reaching for the door handle again./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Now wait a minute!" I looked around frantically, but no one was in sight. Odd! Just like when he picked up the mail. "I'm no threat, seriously! I'm only trying to help out a friend, she needs protection and you're – well, not –– hey!"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"He wasn't listening, reached inside, my door clicked open and he'd already grabbed me by the scruff of my coat./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Seat belt. Thank goodness./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Now I was mad. "You!" I waved my clipped cigarette in his face. "Listen to me!"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"His eyes were dead inside, and his face held a slightly irritated expression. "Get out of the car."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"At this point, I should have just yelled 'Hey Siri, dial nine one one,' but stressful situations call for much illogical reactions. "No, you listen! My friend needs help and she needs to see this George guy, alright? Take me to him-!"/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"His eye rolling was oh-so-slight, but I noticed it./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I realized the error of my demand. I was too angry to laugh at the preposterous nature of this. Was this really serious? I had to know. "Yeah, fine, sure, I don't believe in this vampire bullshit. So take me to him."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"His gaze turned colder than before. "You imbecile. Get out right now."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I snapped my mouth shut when his left hand flashed with something steely bright within his inner coat./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"It surprised me that during the entire time of his approach, our scuffle, and the thudding of my heart as I walked in front of him to that alley gate, there was absolutely no traffic on the street. No foot traffic, no cars, nothing. That occurred to me almost at the same time I discovered that the gate was unlocked and didn't squeak at all when I opened it./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"We were immediately cast into shadow and the air felt ten degrees colder./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Okay, now what?" I began to turn, but I jolted to a stop when I felt something hard and pointy in the small of my back. Now that wasn't fair./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify""Keep walking. To the end."/p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"What was stopping me from making a run for it? Probably my lack of physical exertion for the past ten years. And my smoking. Ugh. I hadn't even been able to finish that cigarette. Now I would seriously be driven insane. At least I'd managed to slip the pack into my jacket pocket on my most uncomfortable exit from my little Toyota. Hopefully, Brooke would figure this out on her own. No time for secret messages./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I was pointed to a door that was at the end on the right side of the short hallway. There was another door to the left. Brooke, please know it's the door on the right. But truth be told, I wondered if she'd even figure out to go down the alleyway./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"This door was also unlocked, which now I found to be a peculiar thing. A greasy little yellow lightbulb hung on the platform just inside the doorway, and I really wasn't surprised to find myself at the top of a flight of stairs leading downward./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Just like a bad movie./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I wished it was only just a movie. I inhaled, pursing my lips, but started moving the moment I felt that little knife tip again./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"Prick./p  
p style="-qt-block-indent: 0; text-indent: 7.2px; margin: 0px 0px 6px 0px;" align="justify"I'd show him./p 


	20. Twenty

We descended the narrow flight of stairs. There was a buzzing light at the landing down below. I watched our shadows shorten, then disappear behind me as I made it to the bottom slowly and unscathed.  
"Stop."  
We were in a very short hallway with two doors, one on each end. Was this some sort of weird basement apartment? And why did we stop, what was he doing? I turned my head, craning to see past my peripheral vision toward him. He was dabbing at his phone. If only I knew how to dropkick someone.  
"That door," he suddenly barked at me, prodding me toward the far door. I scowled but moved forward anyway.  
I should have known there would be zero signal down here, and zero hope. It was a tiny dark room with four walls that was locked from the outside. I yelled and banged on the door for a good five minutes straight, cursing him left and right and down and up and every which way around that I knew. But he'd pushed me in here the second I opened the door and now I was stuck.  
After I assessed my surroundings with my phone, making sure there weren't some sort of gas vent around, I plopped myself down in the corner, shutting off my phone's screen. No good to waste the battery. It would soon be dying to find a signal, literally.  
I'd yelled myself hoarse and consequently, I wished for water. I began cursing myself, then those curses temporarily ceased as I remembered I had my cigarettes.  
How long am I going to be caged up like this? I lit my cigarette and despaired at the fact that I couldn't even see the exhaled smoke. And fretted about Brooke.

Until you're sitting in the darkness, clueless and stressed out, you will never know how long time can go by. With every passing minute, I could feel myself losing my sanity. I checked the time every minute. Then I forced myself to count. Then pray. Then self-commiserate. Then curse this weird cult. Then tear up. Then self-commiserate some more. I smoked two more cigarettes before I wondered if I should space out the remaining seven smokes.  
And time trudged forward, ever so slowly.

Somehow, this room was soundproofed, because I heard nothing. No approaching footsteps, no body going up or down those stairs that was only about six feet from this room. So when the door locks suddenly jangled, I jumped to my feet in alarm. My heartbeat was louder than I'd ever heard it.  
This time, a pistol was pointed at me. Well that's not nice. But I kept my mouth shut. It was that same man with the knife. Again, I had to walk in front of the guy as he prodded me to the other door. This time, I just put my hand on the doorknob. It turned easily enough, and there was no protest from behind me. I glanced at the rising stairwell beside me to my left. I'm not going to risk a bullet in my back as my parting view from life. Locking me away for hours? These guys were maniacs. I wasn't taking my chances with these guys.  
I was surprised to find myself in a brightly lit sitting room. My eyes were adjusting from the pitch blackness when I'd exited the closet, and now I was really squinting. It was something more of a studio apartment. I could see a small kitchenette in the corner, a desk in the other corner, two doors, and I was standing in the entrance that also constituted as the living area.  
And I paled immediately when I saw who was on the sofa nearest me. Brooke was gagged, her hands and feet tied.  
This was no joke.  
"Brooke!" I gasped, immediately running to her. But I was crudely kicked aside and I fell and slid to the foot of the nearby armchair.  
I was just about to growl and pick myself up to attack that galling bully when I suddenly saw a figure sitting in the armchair.  
No.  
It was empty before. It had been.  
What just happened?  
I scooted back, then felt myself dragged up to my feet. George was stronger than I'd expected him to be. I tripped, but he threw me backwards onto the sofa beside Brooke.  
I turned my attention to her. She looked awful. Her left eye was swollen and red, her mascara running down her cheeks. She shook her head at me.  
Brooke, what have they done to you! Tears started forming in my eyes. In a second, my swelling sympathy for her morphed into smoldering rage against the one who'd done this to her. I turned to my offensive guard, who was settling himself on the armrest beside Brooke.  
"You!" I began to get up, my finger pointed at him.  
"Charlie, please, sit down," a composed voice said from my left. I glared angrily at the nasally voice and found myself looking upon a scrawny young man in a button-down pajama set.  
How did he know my name! He must have talked with Brooke already. "Are you Jolly? Shand? Who the fuck are you!"  
"One answer at a time, yes? But only when you calm down. And I suggest you do before Green here needs to, shall we say, force..?"  
My gaze flitted up to this Green, then looked back to this pretentious bastard in the armchair.  
I straightened myself, folding my arms and stared at him.


	21. Twenty-One

"Who are you?" I demanded.  
"I am Frank, Frank Shand."  
"You're a fucking crook. I suppose you're George Jolly, too?"  
"No. Who is George Jolly?"  
The twinkle that couldn't have been there for more than a millisecond wasn't overlooked by me.  
The man who claimed to be Frank leaned forward, his elbow on his knee. "Who are you?"  
"Brooke's roommate, that's all."  
"Hmph," he leaned back in the armchair. "Why are you here?"  
"To help her out. But it looks like you forced us into a detour."  
"She's a blood doll, don't you know?"  
I seethed. "I know enough to the know that you're all a bunch of fucking whackjobs! Who the fuck do you think you are!"  
"I can see. I see more than you know," he giggled.  
I narrowed my eyes at him. What a weirdo!  
"Green, take off Miss Brooke's binds, if you would."  
Green did as he was told, then gingerly reestablished himself on the armrest.  
I remained still, watching Green.  
"Charlie, say nothing, I'm serious!" Brooke gasped almost immediately.  
"Now, now," Frank chided, his voice suddenly much louder than before. "Let's all be straight, shall we?"  
I threw him a dirty look. "Who the fuck are you? Just because you have yourself some butler don't make you have the right to tell us what to do!"  
And then he disappeared.  
I blinked.  
He still wasn't there. I glanced at Green, but he continued to stare off into space as if he were meditating. I turned my eyes to Brooke, trying to read her sorrowful gaze.  
"Obfuscate," she said to me softly.  
"What?" I heard her loud and clear, but what the hell did being obscure have anything to do with what just happened?  
"Charlie, I'm so sorry." She shook her head, averting her baleful grey eyes. "I should've never let you come up here."  
"Brooke," I skootched over to her, placing my hand firmly on her knee. "This isn't your fault, don't be sorry. It's these freaks that-!"  
My words caught in my throat when Frank suddenly materialized, sitting casually beside Brooke. Green moved aside, seemingly annoyed at the sudden intrusion.  
Frank put his arm around Brooke. She merely cringed but didn't raise her eyes. If I weren't in such shock at what my eyes refused to believe, I would have slapped his hands off of her. Instead, I sat there frozen, my mouth possibly agape.  
"So where were we?" Frank purred, starting to caress Brooke's hair. "Ah, yes, how much do you know about us?"  
"I know nothing," I grumbled.  
"Tsk, that's not what I know," he chided me like I were a pitiful child.  
I glared at him. Whatever tricks he was playing on me, I refused to believe them. "And who are you to tell me what's known? You kidnap both of us and – Brooke,"" I leaned toward her, trying to get her to look at me.  
She didn't.  
"Brooke, look at me," I begged, trying to find her underneath the sodden mascara.  
"She knows her place, unlike you," Frank said flatly.  
I pursed my lips at him. "Freak," I muttered under my breath.  
"I see you do not want to explain yourself. No matter. I know your friend here has been kissed before. I'm afraid she may enjoy this. And it would give me great pleasure to have you watch." He leered at me, and my scowl only grew. I wanted to turn my head away from him, but I felt glued to his gaze. "Green," he gestured to his bodyguard, his nasal pitch suddenly higher. "Do you mind?"  
I watched Green stand up and then walk toward me. I stiffened, cringing when he gripped my arm. Was this grip supposed to hold me down? I hadn't taken my eyes off of Frank for a second. He had begun to caress an acquiescing Brooke.  
She even seemed to enjoy it!  
What the hell was going on! Was this some evil trick being played on me?  
"Brooke!" I pulled on my arm, but it was held like a vice. I felt like I were on a leash. I watched Frank smile as he ran his fingers up and down her arm, then slowly slide her cardigan off her shoulders. She inhaled deeply, turning her head towards him.  
Helplessly, more in astonishment than fear, which is what I should have felt, I ogled at them as she turned toward him, and for the love of God! They began groping each other! I've seen some sick shit, but never in reality. What the hell sort of scandal was this! Isn't this guy supposed to be a total stranger? Not even five minutes and they shoving each other's tongues down their throats. Why would she let him do-!  
I froze and my heart stopped. There was... the light in this room was dim, but I knew well enough what color that was that oozed from between their lips.  
I was now officially horrified.  
Dark liquid, almost like syrup, trickled from the corner of Brooke's lips.  
And they continued on with their writhing.  
Sick. That's how I felt. Watching in sick shock. There was a sudden and incoherent roaring in my ears and I felt my heart rate multiplying by the tenfold. I watched as he disengaged their twisted kiss, and I felt damned uncomfortable watching Brooke continue to writhe as if she were in some sort of obtuse orgasm.  
He guided her torso upwards. Were they going to do it right here in front of me?  
His eyes met mine and his gaze I could not avoid. They were black pearls, iridescent, reflecting no light save a swirling mass of mercury. Glass with no depth. The roaring ceased in an instant. For two seconds, time stood still. Brooke twisted against him, but there was no sound. There was nothing, no one, no light or darkness, in the room. There was only him and me.  
He mouthed something, but there was no sound.  
But the words were in my head. I could see the thin blood in rivulets down his chin as if I were only inches from him. I could see every pore in his pale skin. My heart stopped as his eyelids slowly dropped down, covering those demonic eyes.  
And with that close, his words echoed mercilessly in my mind.  
"Your soul will be mine."  
And I could not deny what I saw.


	22. Twenty-Two

Like a horribly directed movie, he went right for the jugular. I saw Brooke cringe, but she didn't fight him. She arched her back, and embraced him. I could hardly see his face for his greasy dark hair. But I saw a young man in plaid pajamas latch onto my friend's neck as she breathed in what sounded like ecstasy.  
The spell, whatever spell I'd been under, shattered instantly.  
This was real. A little too real for my liking, but I wasn't the sort to deny reality. Especially when it's right in front of me. Front seats, anyone? I retained my stiffness but lowered my eyes to study my peripheral vision. I didn't have to see it to know that George had just so happened to have loosened his grip on my arm. I had an inkling this wasn't the first incident of this nature that he'd witnessed.  
But he still watched.  
I had to play my cards right.  
I'm sure I'm supposed to see this to the end. I may even be next. Dessert, perhaps. He expects me to be horrified. I knew myself well enough that I couldn't feign unconsciousness. I felt an approaching tidal wave of the most vile emotions in the back of my mind, but I forced them down. I didn't have time for that right now. I needed to get out of here.  
Like a scientist testing a hypothesis, I observed Brooke's arms loosen their grip. How much time had just passed? What kind of show—no, I'm 99.99% positive that this is no show. This guy is actually consuming her blood. This is monumentally disturbing, but not as disturbing as my wonder of how to escape this den of death.  
Because now a shudder passed through Brooke. I saw her hands spasm. There were no spidery blue veins in those thin hands of hers anymore. Then she struggled, weakly.  
Again, I pushed down that nagging knowing that I was witnessing her death.  
And I couldn't take it anymore.  
My mind wasn't able to form words.  
She'd gone unconscious, I could tell he was holding her up, and what a horrid display as he draped her in his arms. My mind searched frantically for a way to escape.  
Nothing. There was nothing. I had nothing but my cell phone that was probably nearly dead, my car keys, and my cigarettes in my pocket.  
My lighter.  
Green's grip was firm and I knew he'd throw me down if I made moves to escape. But I slowly slid my free right hand into my coat pocket. Because I'm a righty, and I kept my essentials in my right pocket. It was just a Bic, but no matter. A flame was a flame.  
Fire kept vampires at bay, right? Didn't they mortally hate that sort of thing? The irony was hardly amusing. I don't like fire, either, as would anybody who breathed oxygen, but just maybe.  
I slowly adjusted my keys out of the way of my lighter, trying not to make a sound. My adrenaline began to build. Hopefully, I wouldn't seize up. My lighter was almost within reach.  
It all happened so fast, my mind couldn't keep up with my physical reactions.  
Green let go. Frank wasn't there anymore. Brooke's body fell in slow motion. I was thrown back on the couch, my head hit the armrest and I saw sparks. Weight on top of me. Darkness, a flurry of motion. I was pushing on somebody who was holding me down before I could understand what just happened in the span of one second.  
"For me, did you enjoy it?"  
That was Frank's voice, thick. The metallic smell of iron doused over me and I gagged. He was scrawny, but much heavier than he looked. I couldn't get him off me!  
"You psychopath, you-!" I stuttered, trying to thrash him with my knees. But he was agile and avoided any precious blows I could deliver. I writhed and he laughed, I gagged again. The lights were dimmer, where did Green go?  
I wasn't intending on screaming, but when he buried his head into the crook of my neck, I did. Loudly. Because that shit felt like a hypodermic needle right behind my ear.  
His hand mashed over my mouth and I struggled against his demented shushing, his face an inch from mine.  
"Shh, you'll only make it worse," he purred. "It''s only a mere scratch. Won't you join your sweet friend there?"  
I glared at him. His eyes weren't mercurial like before, but I saw nothing in his eyes. Like two dead holes in his head.  
"You bastard!" I yelled at him. My words weren't comprehensible, but I'm sure he caught the gist of it. My heart was pounding itself out of my chest.  
He slid his hand away from my mouth and I huffed, trying to catch my breath. The smell of iron was choking me. "Yes, breathe for me. Tell me, my lovely pet, how do you sit there, knowing that your friend is no more?"  
"I have no choice," I growled, feeling every muscle in my face straining.  
My lighter.  
He leered at me and began to lean down again.  
I struggled, hopefully convincingly enough as I jammed my hand into my pocket and grasped my lighter.  
He was on my neck again!  
The struggle would conceal the sound. I flicked my lighter, praying it would catch his lame flannel pjs this second.  
Not fast enough. I felt another scratch as if he were dragging that canine across my skin. I felt his tongue across my skin and I wanted to gag again. Was the flame even on? Yes, I could feel the metal starting to get hot. I didn't care how burned my fingers might get; I was keeping it lit until something caught.  
And when he screeched, I felt a hundred pounds lighter when he flew off of me.  
I flew up after him, hoping I could catch a glimpse of something on fire in the process of my running to the door on fire. Preferably him.  
Apparently, vampires are very flammable. Or, his pajamas were prone to catching fire. Either way, the lower corner of his shirt was licking up his torso as if he'd been doused in gas.  
I was pretty positive that he wouldn't come flying at me.  
Which is exactly what he did a split second I looked at him.  
We crashed onto the floor behind the sofa – the exit was right behind me! And where was Green? He was nowhere to be seen. The bastard was scratching me, trying to hit me! I could feel the heat and the burning stench coming off of him, choking me. I coughed, gagged, I could barely see where his blows were coming from as he cursed at me.  
We rolled over and over, crashing into some piece of furniture. Something made of glass fell, exploding onto the floor behind my head. I could only cower my arms in front of my face. He was screeching in my ears, tearing at my shirt.  
You fucking idiot, put yourself out, damn it! You want to burn me alive, too?  
I felt a slash on my arm. Damn you! I bellowed incoherent yells of anger to match his own. I probably shouldn't have done that because my proceeding inhale was nothing but foul smoke. I coughed and coughed, doubling over, tears streaming from my eyes.  
And then I realized that there was no one on top of me.


	23. Twenty-Three

I looked up through watery eyes, scrambling to try and get up. Damn my contacts, they better not fall out.  
My mind thinks of the strangest things at the oddest times.  
I couldn't even see the ceiling for all the swirling smoke. But I could hear objects being thrown, hitting the walls and shattering on the floor and his intolerable wailing spinning around the room. He was the only thing on fire in here though he was more of the smoldering type than the blazing inferno kind.  
What an idiot!  
And no fire alarm, either, go figure.  
Brooke!  
I covered my mouth with my sleeve, trying not to inhale the smoke, and took a deep breath.  
I rounded the sofa, tripping in the dim light and nearly stumbling onto the prone body of Brooke.  
My God. What... she looked... she was...  
And then my entire body flew backwards. I hit the concrete wall, the force in front of me pushing me upwards. I saw stars, I saw black. I couldn't breathe. And I saw a ruddy-skinned maniacal face, pockmarked and drawn like an emaciated centenarian, his eyes sunken into the eye sockets. What the hell happened to him!  
"You," it growled hoarsely.  
I was choking. I couldn't inhale, I couldn't hear what this lunatic was saying to me anymore. My vision began going white, my entire body was screaming at me for oxygen.  
This was it. Suffocation.  
I saw the room brighten. A light.  
I felt myself falling.  
But then everything disappeared the moment I hit the floor.

Where it stops, nobody knows... Every time I call your name... I heat up, like a burning flame...  
Yeah, the words were all messed up, but it was the incoherent traces of a song that greeted me inside my head.  
Was I still alive?  
I had to be. Only Earth could wake me up with such an absurd song. And why that one, of all things?  
First, I felt I was on my back. I felt my breathing, my chest rising and falling. My eyes were closed, but I could tell there was a dim light beside me. I blindly assessed my surroundings. I was on some sort of couch, sofa, bench?  
And what the hell just happened? Did that freak die? He sure looked like he was dying. What happened to Green? Did the joint burn down? Brooke! What about Brooke?  
I took a ragged inhale and opened my eyes.  
It was as if I'd never left.  
Here I lay on the same exact divan I'd woken up on two nights ago. But this time, I was completely alone. The stairway rose up behind me into darkness. The cherry parquet floor was like glass, reflecting the dim light from the chandelier above me. The grandfather's clock told me it was a quarter past nine. In the pm, I presumed, due to the darkness beyond the tall curtained windows at my feet.  
I swung my legs out again for the second night in a row and sat up, my adrenaline rushing. This was no dream. I didn't hear a sound in the house apart from the muffled swinging of the clock's pendulum. Was anyone even here? One of these fiends had to have brought me here.  
Against my will.  
I patted my coat. My cigarettes and my phone were in there. I must have dropped my lighter. This was almost as bad as being out of cigarettes. I had to find a light, a match, anything. Where's the kitchen? I'd use the stove.  
I got up, almost anticipating that creepy butler – what was his name? I'd forgotten – to come stalking around the corner from the enclosed entrance into this foyer. But no soul appeared.  
I glanced down the hall where that gathering room was. There were dim lights, but I felt that no one was here tonight. I didn't want to go that way. I wanted none of it. So instead, I went down to the other end of the foyer to another hallway. Perhaps the utility rooms were back there. I wandered down the hall, another sort of gallery with closed double-doors and dim wall sconces lighting my way. And there! French doors were partially open and I could see the hallway lighting up the most beautiful countertop just beyond.  
My pace quickened and I stopped just before the doors, peaking around the corner. The main lights were off in there, and the house was still dead silent.  
What the hell.  
I strode inside like I owned the place. That was the only way to do it. I got a little adrenaline rush, but that's all part of the procedure of advancing unbidden inside a stranger's manor. I pushed up the light switch and watched the five-star kitchen come to life, thousand dollar lighting and hundred-pound granite countertops and all. Stainless steel stove directly to my left directly behind the massive island. It looked gorgeous, with this terra cotta theme going on, but it looked entirely unused.  
Whoever that butler was, well he was impeccably clean. I strolled over to the stove, pulling out my pack and extracting a cigarette from it. Seven left.  
Now how to figure out this contraption? I paused for a few seconds, studying this high-tech modern setting that consisted of buttons rather than knobs. I was too tired to be impressed and figured the thing out quickly, bending down with stick in mouth as soon as one of the pilots lit.  
It was certainly one of the most memorable inhales of my life.  
Now I felt alive.  
Not that I recommend anyone to start the habit. It's sickening when you realize that that smoking stick gives you only two options: you have to either kick the habit or kick the bucket.  
Anyway, so now I was cognizant. And I looked down at myself after blowing a massive cloud above my head and was slightly surprised to see my condition. I was in shambles. And then like a tidal wave, what had happened tonight that initially felt like a dream suddenly became reality.  
Brooke.  
My legs felt weak. This couldn't be real.  
But it was.  
My entire body felt ghostly, weightless. I was going to collapse. I took a step backward, trying to force myself to accept that I wasn't dreaming all this.  
I nearly slipped. I inhaled sharply, looking around me, and all I could see was the corner behind me where the countertop met. I all but fell into that corner. The cold tile was suddenly in my palms and rear end, and I had to look around to situate myself. The light reflections on the pristine stainless steel kitchen swirled around me.  
Even that I squeezed my eyes shut, her battered and lifeless body looked back at me. What the fuck just happened? My eyes fluttered back open, my breathing coming quick. Smoke burned my eyes and I absentmindedly lifted my hand to take a drag from my cigarette.  
Head rush.  
I squeezed my eyes shut, my head lolling back onto the hard cabinet as I gasped for air.  
I wanted to vomit. Had someone actually drank the blood of my friend? I wanted to scream. I couldn't cry, the tears wouldn't come. I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. All I could feel was the cold tile underneath me, the cold cabinets coddling me in their corner. This wasn't real.  
"Oh, but it is real."  
My eyes shot open, my heart caught in my chest.  
I wasn't alone.


	24. Twenty-Four

Jann was sitting casually beside me, his arm draped over a bent knee down on the floor.  
How in the world-!  
I started instantly, pulling my legs up to my chest. I hugged myself like an idiot, cigarette smoke swirling all around. And I stared at him.  
He wasn't doing that eye trance thing right now. He smiled at me, but it was all mouth, no eyes. Courtesy? Feigned amusement?  
No. This made me angry. I demand to know what is going on.  
"Did you bring me here?"  
"No, that would be Gabriel."  
I narrowed my eyes. "What happened?"  
"Something for you to learn, my dear. Now come up off this floor, this is most uncivilized." He stood up in one fluid movement. I had to take a second look to confirm that he did in fact stand up rather than apparition himself to loom above me.  
I stood up then, all five foot one of me, and did my damndest to stop my knees from knocking.  
"Come." He held his arm out, just the same as he did before.  
I was too disturbed to reply in my usual negative. His left arm was suspended out toward me, so I languidly switched my cigarette hand and placed my fingertips on his coat sleeve. He began walking before I could situate myself, and I was practically skipping in step to catch up as he walked briskly through the rest of the kitchen heading toward a set of doors at the other end. I glanced up at his light brown hair, combed neatly to the nape of his neck and just touching his collar. My cigarette was burning my fingers and I nearly dropped it.  
I needed another drag before he leads me off to I-don't-know-where. I took a pull, making a face in distaste at the burning filter.  
We went through the door on the right and I found myself climbing up a spiral staircase. What an odd house.  
Everything passed me by. Was he casting his spell again? My thoughts wandered elsewhere. How many parking tickets was my little Toyota accruing? Who was going to take care of her house? Who was going to tell Brooke's parents? Were the cops there? Did the building burn down? What happened to Green? To Frank? Was she really dead? What are you doing to me?  
The whirlwind of questions in my mind came to a sudden standstill when the swirling scenery around me slowed to a stop and I found myself staring stupidly at an open hand. I followed the hand to the arm, to the shoulder, and once again into a pair of amber eyes whose expression was neither condescending or bemused.  
He nodded.  
Oh.  
He was gesturing me to sit down in a high backed rose-colored armchair. I set myself down, rather abruptly, and found myself in a sort of reading room. Armchair set, bookshelves, desk in the corner, high ceiling with tall curtained windows. It didn't even look like I was in the same house.  
I watched him take the armchair only a mere two feet away that catty-cornered mine. He crossed his leg and leaned in toward me. I shifted in my seat as far away from him as I could, even crossing my legs away from him. If he noticed, he didn't care. His elbow resting on the armrest, he cradled his chin in his hand and stared at me.  
My eyes burned still from the tears, but my head was finally starting to clear up. I steadied my breathing. I wasn't afraid of the guy, but yet I was. This was the man in command. If I could even call him a man. The horror must have shown on my face because I could feel him smile. Smile for what? Amusement? Some twisted sense of humor?  
I darted my gaze to him, but he interrupted me before I could make a biting remark.  
"You have a cut on your neck."  
My hand instantly shot up to my neck. Yes, it was crusty. Bastard.  
"Did you know him?"  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "No."  
"Did you notice anything special about him?"  
Why all the questions? Was he doing that weird trance thing on me? I felt my nerves tingling. Or were they really tingling? I clenched my hands into fists, feeling vulnerable and most ill at ease. "He..."  
"He's a vampire, yes I know. Go on."  
I pursed my lips. Two choices quickly reared their heads: play along, or fight him. Neither choice seemed to offer me any solace or assurance that this conversation was going anywhere but downhill. Play along. Bluff, even. "As I was saying, he had a knack for appearing out of nowhere. How did you know where to find us? And what about Brooke?""  
"We left the building to burn. I gather that she went with it." He shrugged.  
With that news, I needed another cigarette. One that I could fully enjoy this time. "I need a light."  
His eyes deadened. "What was his name?"  
"Why, is this someone you know? What the hell is going on here?" Never get between someone who's fiending, this is elementary.  
"Be grateful I'm not forcefully probing your mind, young lady."  
I scowled. "Like the night before, you mean?"  
A small smirk crossed his eyes before reverting back to his expressionless facade. "Precisely. I admire your fortitude, I do. Please know that I have nothing but faithful and good intentions for you."  
"I don't even know you! And you don't know me. And to be completely up front with you, I don't trust you at all."  
"I understand. Perhaps, in time, this disadvantage will be gone from between us."  
What was her name? Donna? And her mockery of him and romantic interests? My mental eye-rolling must have shown itself.  
"I am curious as to who this individual is that did this to you. There was another one with him, yes?"  
"Yeah, another creepy guy. Green. They all had code names. Maybe something like George Green, I don't know. I didn't see him after Frank seduced Brooke.""  
"He killed her, you know."  
I frowned. How cold. "Yes, I know. I saw."  
"And he toyed with you." He smiled then and looked upon me as if he were some proud father or something. "This is why I like you. You fought. And as fate would have it, you won.""  
"What the hell was I supposed to do, let him kill me, too?"  
"Oh, many faint or just surrender immediately. You, you became angry. That anger..." He put a finger to his lips and smiled at me. "This is what makes you strong. Though what you have is a dangerous thing to wield if you cannot control it."  
"My temper is just fine, thank you."  
"It is a double-edged sword, you are right. Without it, you would not be who you are. But with it, you risk profound ruin, maybe even self-destruction. I would help you tame that."  
I must have shown disbelief and annoyance. I don't know. I tend to have poor control over my reactions. Is that what he was talking about? What am I, some sort of child that needs disciplining? "Tame it for what? I'm doing just fine without your help. And so I suppose you're a vampire, too?"  
That horribly handsome smile that lit up his face was devilish and alluring. As if he were Satan himself. Temptation incarnate, and you knew you would die if heaven forbid you fell for it.  
And I fell for it when he broke the silence.  
"And you will be mine."


	25. Twenty-Five

Manipulation. I was being manipulated. There was no question or doubt in my mind. But he wasn't playing those mind games with me.  
"That's what you think." As if I'd automatically gone into hard-to-get mode. I didn't even think about what I said until I said it. And my impudence made him smile at me again, though without that damndable aura this time. I withdrew a cigarette, fully intentioned on demanding a light, when he interrupted me.  
"Charlene, I am afraid you do not have a choice." He raised his hand, all the while holding my gaze. "See for yourself," he whispered, turning his eyes to a candlestick that was on the end table between us.  
I looked at it after a moment, and my heart stopped when I saw the wick ignite.  
I laughed.  
"Do you do this with all your prisoners? Try to impress them with some cheap trick?"  
"You said you needed a light."  
So cheeky. But I was more than slightly perturbed by this so-called cheap trick as I leaned forward to light my cigarette. I glared at him as I did this, watching him watching me. And what he said as I inhaled only irritated me more.  
"I would have brought that to you."  
"No thank you," I exhaled toward him. "I wouldn't want you to exert yourself for my sake." It was biting, but I wasn't prepared for what he did next.  
The moment my smoke cleared, which didn't bother him in the least, he smiled at me and opened his hand. And to my horror that I bit my lip to hide, the candelabra, candle, flame, and all, suddenly arose and glided smoothly into his open palm.  
I was speechless. No. Another cheap trick. Though I couldn't comprehend how. There were a lot of things in life I couldn't comprehend, why not this one?  
"You still doubt?"  
"I've seen better." Total bluff. Sometimes it got me in trouble.  
He merely smiled, then let go of the candelabra, setting his hands into his lap. Yet, the candelabra remained, hovering in front of him, the flame flickering calmly.  
"Am I supposed to be impressed?"  
"I want you to believe."  
"Then use your mental tricks then."  
"Was it not enough to watch your friend die at the hands of a most uncouth... being?"  
I didn't have an explanation for that one, either, sick as it seemed.  
"You said he was crazy?"  
"A weirdo," I replied. "He's dead now, right?" Somehow, his death didn't feel... justified.  
"Hm. No doubt he is clanless. Just another shadow," he paused, completely disregarding the floating candelabra not even half a foot from his face. I watched a bead of wax trace its way down the candle stem. The silence was deafening, so when he broke it, I jumped a little. "He has been found. Tonight, perhaps, you may come to understand my true nature."  
"What, that you're a bunch of vampires? Like from the movies and books?"  
He waved his hand, suddenly mindful of the floating flame in front of him. He glared at it, then waved his hand again. "Mind that you put that down?"  
I looked on with rapt curiosity as the candelabra floated toward me and stopped within my reach. So I took it by its little handle and set it firmly down on the end table with a little clang. The wax spilled over, the red streak hardening onto the golden stand before it reached the table. I looked up at him, noting that he was watching me with intent.  
"Movies and books? Romance and theatre! Their writers wouldn't believe us even if they saw us."  
I frowned, not so sure. "As do I."  
"Just so. Would you like to see us play?"  
"I don't think it would be anything fun, actually. Convince me."  
"I would have you come to know on your own without my help." He suddenly smiled at me, but it was grim. "After all, one cannot truly change unless they do it themselves."  
Ain't that the truth. But I wouldn't give him that satisfaction of my agreement. I don't think he cared, anyway. "You found Green?"  
"Yes."  
"What are you going to do to him?"  
"Why, punish him, of course."  
"What for? What were you planning to do to Brooke, anyway?" I felt numb and disconnected. This was my friend!  
"Her fate was Gabriel's to decide."  
"I thought you were the boss around here."  
He raised an eyebrow. "She belonged to Gabriel. Not some thin-blooded scum."  
I pursed my lips. "Strange vocabulary."  
"You will learn. Now come, they are waiting for us."  
"They?"  
"My brood. As well as your new friends."  
My mind immediately went to Donna. There was no friend there. In fact, however, it did give me pleasure that her mockery of my position with Jann was the truth. Or so it seemed, anyway. I wasn't exactly comfortable enough with him to ask him what he wanted from me. And all the answers he'd given to my roundabout questions hardly made any sense to me. But I couldn't help but say, "With friends like that, who needs enemies?"  
He chuckled. "She cannot harm you."  
This statement angered me and I lowered my brows at him. "Who do you mean, 'she'?"  
The smile lingered on his face. "The one who thinks to scorn your position with me."  
My retort was caught in my throat. Was it fear, was it ire at his intuition? How the hell had he known? Maybe she'd discussed me with him. Or he'd heard it through the grapevine. Or he had told her to talk to me. Did he know where I was? How…  
He interrupted my thoughts. "Or maybe it's because I'm a vampire."


	26. Twenty-Six

"That's not fair."  
"Hm? What is not?"  
At that moment, I wished I could turn into a cat and slink away. But I had no haughtiness to display. And he spoke again before I could formulate my thoughts into a cohesive whole.  
"It is an enhancement of intuition, actually. Some call it an intrusion. But I say knowledge is power, don't you agree?"  
"I... agree with both. But mind-reading is impossible."  
"Then let's say I've been around long enough to know what others are pondering."  
"I don't buy it."  
He suddenly moved up out of his armchair, rising to his tall stature. "Come," he beckoned, a barely discernible twinkle in his eyes.  
"For what? Teleport me to wherever you want me to go then, if you're some magician or whatever."  
"Magician?" He cupped his chin in his hand. "I suppose that is close. But," and he shrugged and dropped his hand from his face. "It is no matter. What you will see will be no magic. Come, I do not wish to force you."  
I grumbled then, gripping the armrests and pushing myself up to my feet. I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. And I ached all over. I guess it'd been a pretty rough night so far. The pain must have showed on my face because Jann leaned down to look at me.  
"Are you ill?"  
I rolled my eyes. "It wasn't that long ago that I was getting thrown around a burning room and God knows what else. Oh, and I was locked up in a dark room for hours. Did you know that, too?"  
He nodded. His hand reached up to my face and I stiffened. Normally, I'd smack a wayward hand that approached me, but… he must have pushed some acquiescence spell on me or something. He merely put his fingers to my jaw and turned my head to the side.  
Right. That cut. He studied it for a moment, then retracted his hand. I wasn't able to read his eyes, so flat and emotionless they were.  
I scoffed then, looking away. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if you planned this whole fiasco yourself."  
Half of his mouth turned up in a stupid smirk. "You are most cynical."  
"No," I turned my eyes to meet his gaze and kept it there. "I just know how fucking devious people are."  
"Including yourself?"  
I narrowed my eyes at him.  
"I thought so," Jann replied quickly. "Now come, there isn't much time." He held out his elbow for me.  
Why I had to take it, I don't know. But I did. I suppose it was more cordial than him pushing me around, or making me walk in front of him with a knife digging into my spine or something. Or worse, holding my hand. I shuddered at the thought, suddenly feeling very skeeved at the sight of my hand inside the crook of his sleeve.  
This time, I was more cognizant of where he led me and we made it quickly down a hallway, around a bend, through a door and down a spiral staircase. Except this time we went out through another door into the hallway I recognized that would lead to the atrium. But we turned before we got there, and I found myself descending yet again.  
I really couldn't believe how nicely furnished this home was. I've been to large houses before, and they had a tendency to be of the minimalistic persuasion in the décor department. Not so with Jann. In fact, much of his décor seemed to be of the old world: gilded, tones of olive and soft yellows, upholsteries of gold and burgundy. Surprising, for someone as prim and stiff as himself.  
Now there were no windows, and I felt we were in a basement of sorts, even though when I'd landed on the lower level, there were still tall windows looking out into the darkness of the night.  
We stopped at the double doors at the end of the wide corridor, and he stopped and turned to look down at me.  
"I truly do not wish to assist you. Will you remain composed?"  
I pursed my lips. "Do I have a choice?"  
"I can begin now. Or should you break your silence, I will be forced to do it for you."  
I scoffed. "Leave me alone."  
A glimmer passed through his eyes, and he nodded and opened the door.  
I wasn't ready for what I saw before me.


	27. Twenty-Seven

It was a large and long room. Something like a conference room, completely furnished with a large wide table surrounded by a number of upholstered chairs. A solitary lamp hung above the center of the gathering, casting dark shadows within the room's corners.  
And there was his gang seated around this dark marbletop table. There were seven guys, and I quickly noticed Donna and another unknown girl beside Will, the butler. No Sara, the kinder one. Blood doll, they called it? It didn't matter. They all turned to look at us, but I couldn't look at them. My gaze was frozen upon the figure of Green laying atop the black marble. His head was at the front of the table where an empty chair awaited. I recognized his clothes. And the weird smell of stale smoke in the room.  
Nothing held him there.  
But he wasn't moving.  
I couldn't understand it.  
Jann had his hand on the small of my back again, and gave me a little push toward the table. I moved not of my own accord and suddenly found the seat right beside the head of the table (where Jann promptly sat at) and consequently, now Green's head was directly in front of me.  
"Why is she here?"  
That would be Donna. She sat nearly across from me. But I couldn't be bothered to glance at her. I still couldn't take my eyes off of Green.  
He was sweating profusely, his eyes glazed and staring up at the ceiling. His palms were flat on the marble.  
But I did notice in my peripheral vision that she suddenly made a face at the man sitting directly across from me. No one paid her any attention.  
So I suddenly snapped out of it. And Jann began talking the moment I did.  
"Bengal?"  
The man sitting across from me and next to Donna turned to him. "Coward," was all he said.  
Jann looked in my direction, to whoever sat next to me. I turned my head and realized I sat beside Gabriel. His face was drawn, but otherwise expressionless. "His loyalty was for Shand. Wouldn't you consider this something of a success?"  
I glanced down the line. The young lady three seats down from me stared back at me, and I quickly looked away, intending on looking back to Jann but found myself staring at the prostrate body lying on the table in front of everyone. Why was he just there? I could see his breathing, sharp and frantic. Perhaps this Bengal was correct. Coward? And then I noted that everyone, including myself, had an empty wine glass in front of them. Jann was talking, but somehow, I didn't care. I stared into the empty glass, into the upside-down reflection of Green's head.  
"Is he fit?" Jann declared, somewhat loudly.  
There was silence. My gaze meandered upwards to find everyone staring at me. I felt very small and I looked at Jann. He looked so very serious, and yet, his face was the only one that didn't make me feel so... threatened. Was that question directed at me? I would like a cigarette, I thought impulsively. So I said, "Fit for what?"  
I heard a few feminine snickers and some masculine huffs, though they were hushed. Jann didn't bat an eye. "To live as a man."  
I frowned and looked at Green. It was as if he were frozen in place. "That's not my place to decide."  
"He is the cause of it all."  
I looked back at Jann but couldn't hold his gaze. The cause of my friend's death? I can trace that trail right back to you, strange man, for it was your name-dropping that she took for a clue. A clue that I followed, a clue that trapped us both. But I didn't say such a thing. How much do they know? What did Green tell them, if anything? I glanced back at Jann.  
Jann raised an eyebrow.  
Reading my thoughts, are we? I stiffened my jaw and said nothing.  
A few more seconds passed before he nodded. "Silence is acquiescence. Gabriel?"  
"Death."  
"You bear this weight?" Jann questioned him.  
"Gladly."  
I knitted my brows and turned my head to look at Gabriel. Why so adamant? Did he love her? Gabriel took no notice of me, his eyes focused on Green. I looked back to Jann. Again, I faded back into the scenery.  
"Then let us begin," Jann declared, pushing his chair back and standing up.  
I watched Green begin to struggle. Had they even given this guy a chance to talk? Why was I sitting here pitying this creep, anyway? I looked up at Jann, who just so happened to be looking down at me. And then he smiled at me, a real one this time. It sent shivers down my arms and stomach. But my equivocations were short-lived when Green began to struggle more, against some invisible cuffs were strapping him to the table.  
This was morbid. What the hell am I doing here?  
Green was trying to say something, but his mouth was sealed shut with no visual reason why. It really looked like someone's hand was over his mouth the way he struggled with his face. But there was not a single hand on him.  
And what I saw next, I nearly fainted, if it weren't for my quickly-shrinking knot of disbelief. Suspension was failing fast, though. For I saw small blotches appear on his shirt and his pants. The last one appeared on his throat, and that was when I realized this was blood. Bleeding from the inside out.  
I felt my entire mass give out for what happened as the splotches became larger. And I then knew what those wine glasses in front of everyone was for. Eight streams of blood from those splotches suddenly poured out of him. Streams that went airborne, arching in synchrony through the air and into the eight glasses that sat in front of every member in this group. Except the women.  
I felt bile rising upwards inside of me. My scream was caught in my throat, watching Green shudder and strain against his invisible binds.  
And I could hardly hear Jann's exclamation of "Gabriel," as he raised his now-filled glass, the other seven following suit, as I watched them drain their glasses. The streams had stopped, and now Green's chest heaved up and down quickly. He wasn't fighting anymore.  
I glanced at Donna. She was completely unfazed, and was staring at me. Observing me. I growled inside. How dare this cunt watch me show my fear. How dare she mock me without saying a word. I locked eyes with her, vaguely seeing the men set their empty glasses down. They had all drained the cup in a single draught.  
Dementia indeed.  
My return glare at Donna was cut short when I saw Gabriel atop Green. And then I felt a movement of air beside me. I blinked, because I couldn't understand. How had he gotten atop the table so fast? And that thought, too, was cut short when I saw Gabriel claw at Green's face, and my mind saw Gabriel's face on Green's jugular before my mind could register what the hell was happening here.  
That was when I passed out.


	28. Twenty-Eight

This wasn't the first time I've fainted. Obviously, if you've been with me this far. When you wake up from a faint, it feels as if you've just rested an entire night and are waking up to a brand new day.  
It's the strangest feeling, really, because the fact is, only a few minutes have passed.  
Well, in the case of Jann's basement, it appeared that they'd left me there to sleep through the rest of the crude ceremony, in which someone had afterward carried me onto a divan seat in some unknown room where I was most gently awoken by Gabriel who was prodding me with his foot. He was sitting on the opposite end of the divan, staring at me, the toe of his Oxford nudging my thigh.  
It took a few seconds for me to recall the situation. Another second to recall his face. And then another second to become cognizant of the awkward position I was in, my feet on the floor while my upper torso was prone on the pillows.  
I supposed Gabriel wanted room on the divan, too, as he looked quite comfortable himself, with his arm draped over the raised back, one foot resting on the floor while the other lounged casually upon the cushions and all.  
I pushed myself backwards, sitting up and removing my limbs from his reach. I stared at him for a long minute. I felt no threat from this guy, yet he continued to stare at me, almost in an amused and pitiful manner. I failed to read his expression, and finally huffed in frustration.  
"What the hell was that about?" That's not what I wanted to say – it made me look like a fucking geek – but it was the first thing that made its way out of my mouth.  
"Revenge. Sealing up the evidence, as it were."  
I sighed, letting my head fall back onto the carved wooden frame. All this furniture had to be from the 1800's. "I don't know why I had to be there.""  
"Because you didn't believe."  
"Oh?" I didn't bother to lift my head, but I turned my eyes to him anyway. No, this guy didn't threaten me at all. In fact, bless Brooke's simple heart, he was actually rather down-to-earth despite his fashionably good looks. And at least he was straightforward. So far, anyway.  
"Do you believe now?" That was a genuine question. I didn't sense any condescension.  
"Ah," I scrunched up my face. If I said yes, I'd feel a fool to what I'd just witnessed. But if I said no, I'd feel foolish, too, to what I know I'd seen this long night. The clock on the wall read 3 am. "Shouldn't you vampires be going to bed soon?""  
To my surprise, Gabriel laughed. It was an easy and innocent laugh. "Dawn. The nights are getting longer, in case you haven't noticed."  
I finally picked my head up. "It must suck to be a vampire, no pun intended. We humans get way more hours in our day than you guys. At least we can stay up past our bedtime if we wanted to."  
He raised an eyebrow at me. "What do you think you humans are for?"  
Whatever he was saying, it didn't register, though I could feel that he just threw a dig at me. "I don't get it."  
He snapped his fingers, nodding towards an unknown direction. "Blood dolls? Ghouls? Like Green, get it?"  
I frowned. "No. I don't."  
He returned the frown. "You do understand the concept of blood dolls, at least? Like Brooke?"  
You were consciously using Brooke? The disgust had to show on my face. "Not really."  
He studied me for a moment. "I suppose I'm going to be the one to teach you all this."  
I thought of Jann. "What is the purpose of this lesson?"  
He took another second before replying. "It's pretty obvious Jann wants you for his own designs."  
I was actually quite impressed that he was so well-spoken – and straightforward. Which only drove the point home. "Meaning, I'm going to figure it out one way or another.""  
He scoffed. "Maybe. Blood dolls are humans who are blood bound. Blood bound is when you're addicted to a certain vampire's blood. And you will do their bidding when it's asked of you. Why do you think she came running to me all the time?"  
"...Addiction?"  
He nodded. "Literally. I give her a little of my blood, just enough to keep her wanting for more. So with my blood inside of her, I have control of her. She would do anything just to have a taste of me again."  
I folded my arms and crossed my legs. "Sounds pretty low and underhanded to me."  
"But useful. Especially when," he paused, forcing me to make eye contact with him. "When your functioning hours are shorter than humans.""  
It made perfect sense. But so very twisted. "And this is the way it is?"  
"You are Jann's now."  
I didn't know how I should feel about that statement. "Which means what?"  
"Which means you probably won't be leading much of a human life anymore." And he smiled most beatifically. I could see the appeal, certainly, but it was so Hollywood. So the same. Attractive to kids. I wasn't a kid anymore.  
"Meaning?" I was still trying to accept this concept of vampires as real. It still felt a charade to me. Were they serious? I needed more proof.  
He chuckled, almost in a pitying manner where it trails off at the end. "Great, you're the kind with the never ending questions, huh?"  
I shrugged. "Amuse me."  
This time, he laughed aloud. "Okay, yeah, sure, I guess there's a lot you need to learn."  
"So you're ready then?" I raised an eyebrow to him.  
He didn't seem to care for that. "For what?"  
I adjusted myself in my seat. "For a lot of questions."  
"Ah," he waved his hand at me, making me feel that I lost some imaginary upper hand, however slight it may have been. "There'll be time for all that."  
"Starting tonight?" Now I was just plain curious. I'd arrived in Connecticut hardly a week ago, I had no career, I had no family, I had nowhere to go. Would I opt for spending my time with the likes of these...people? Certainly not. But at this point, I felt as if my options were pretty slim. I didn't have a car now (God only knows what happened to it), I wasn't familiar with this place, I was forced to be among strangers, and, well, at twenty-nine years old, where the hell was I going tonight?  
"We'll start somewhere," Gabriel agreed, leaning forward and grinning at me. "Are you ready for your first lesson?"


	29. Twenty-Nine

"Are you going to prove this vampire shit to me then?"  
He rolled his eyes. "Charlene, uh, Charlie?"  
"Charlie's fine."  
"Okay. Don't you have an imagination?"  
I leaned back, smirking at him. "You're proving to me that you and your friends are all a bunch of whackjobs."  
"Ever feel spooked?"  
I thought for a moment. "When there was legit proof behind the feeling."  
"Where'd you grow up, anyway?"  
"Bayonne," I answered, not sure why he'd suddenly switched gears.  
"Okay, so you're a city kid. Did anything you've seen or read, or anyone you've met, ever seem a little off to you?"  
"They were nerds."  
He snorted. "So I guess that answers my question. You have no imagination. Do you read?"  
"All the time."  
"Vampires, ever? Or whatever you call it now, paranormal or supernatural or some shit?"  
"Eh," I rolled me eyes. "Not the modern stuff. I can't stand that stuff." Now that I thought of it, I had enjoyed all that vampire nonsense at some point back in high school. Obsessed, even. But that phase had come and gone, and before I'd met these guys and saw their little vampire display, I had a decent appreciation for those authors who wrote about the fictional bloodsuckers.  
But now? Gabriel chuckled. "Well forget about all that stuff. Fancy fantasies. As you saw tonight, we're not about love and all that shmoozy bullshit like they play in the movies. And not this weird zombie Blade shit, either."  
"Ah," I scoffed. "Yeah, it's been a while. Kristofferson's a great actor."  
He snickered in response. "Okay, now listen." He folded his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. "There's politics. A lot of politics."  
"Vampire politics?" I fought the urge to crack a joke. "About who you can and can't suck blood from?"  
"It's called vitae. And yeah, that's kind of part of it. but really unimportant. In this world, there are two powers: the Camarilla, and the Sabbat. The Camarilla carry this code called the Masquerade. Basically, it's the rules to keep vampires from being noticed or recognized by you humans. And then there's the Sabbat, who could give two shits about the Masquerade, yet they carry on and try to overthrow the Camarilla.""  
I could get it. "So you're... who?"  
"We're Anarchs. We sort of fight the system. There's too much... I forget the word. Something about inheritance and — well, preferring their progeny – kids, or something like that—"  
"Nepotism?" I offered, trying to absorb the vocabulary.  
"Right!" He snapped his fingers. "Yeah, I can't remember those long words. Anyway, so we Anarchs want this Camarilla system changed. We've got no problem with the Masquerade, and believe me, we dislike the Sabbat almost as much as the Camarilla, but these old-school laws needs to change. These dictators gotta go. That's what we're all about."  
"You Anarchs, or 'you' as in Jann and company?"  
He looked confused for a moment, but then shook his head. "Jann's our leader."  
"So you're trying to do some covert shit like take out the system... what system?"  
"I just told you!" He frowned at me, which I realized it as the first time I'd seen him frown at me tonight. "The Camarilla own this place, they own most of New England; most of America, for that matter. Anarchs rule California, and the Sabbat own the south. The Ivory Tower, as the Camarilla like to call themselves, are ruled by Justicars and Archons, and they rule the specific clans in the Camarilla. But each city or area has its own Camarilla leader called a Prince. And then there's a whole bunch of people that work for the Prince. A whole bunch of jerkoffs who think who the hell they are. They're the problem. The problem we're going to fix."  
For some reason, I didn't believe that they were the first to try and do this. Nor would they be the last. He didn't sound too self-assured that they were actually going to fix it, but I didn't mention that. "So... what's the point here?"  
He gave me a blank stare.  
I suppressed the urge to snicker. "I'm asking you what you and Jann's group are trying to do. Specifics, as it were," I pursed my lips at him. Handsome, but a little slow in the upstairs.  
Again, he succeeded in easily pushing me off my pedestal. "That's between Jann and you. I don't know what he wants from you, so what we do isn't any of your business."  
"Okay. So who am I to Jann? Are you gonna," and I made the quintessential quote fingers, "'turn me,' or something?"  
"That's up to Jann. What's up with your neck?"  
"What?" I put my hand to my neck and felt the scabs beneath my jaw from Frank. Freaking Frank. "From that guy that tried to attack me."  
"Hm," he leaned closer to me, looking at my neck for a moment before leaning back. "You feel funny at all?"  
I ran a quick mental note over my body. "No. Should I?"  
"Just wondering."  
"Jann told me he was... Mal something. What's that?"  
Gabriel sighed, leaning back into the divan. It would seem proper if he lit a cigarette just then. "All vampires are... there's different types. It goes back into some history thing... Caine, the original vampire, or something like that. I can't be bothered with all that. But basically, each type has a strength and weakness." He glanced at me.  
"Can I smoke?" I vaguely noted that my smokes were running low at this point. "Go on." He shrugged and I reached for my smokes. "So give me an example. What are you?"  
"I'm a Toreador. I'm a master of superficiality and speed. Celerity, they call it."  
"Superficiality, eh?" I mumbled, the cigarette dangling from my lips. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?""  
"When it comes to a Toreador, it is." And he smiled so beatifically that even I could see the possibility of his being attractive. But not quite. "Our clans are pretty unified. A lot of us Anarchs are Caitiff, though. Meaning, they're not as strong or as, shall I say, talented, as pureblood clans are."  
"What are Caitiff?"  
"You see, there's this thing called generations in our world. Caine would be the first generation. The people he bit would be second generation. And then the people they bit would be considered third generation. And so on. We're up to the thirteenth generation, and it's looking bad." He looked at me as if expecting a reaction.  
"What looks bad?"  
"That's where the Caitiff come in. The powers that were granted to each clan was stronger in the older generations, but it gets diluted and weaker with every new one. To the point where now, people become vampires without the clan strengths. Or weaknesses, which is kind of a good thing, depending on how you look at it."  
"So they're kind of a default. Starting from scratch?"  
"Well, it takes a lot for them to learn any skills at all. See, I was born into Toreador. My skills at looks and speed came naturally to me. But someone I turn may or may not get the same talents at me."  
"So you're basically at the mercy of whoever bites you, huh? Sounds... like a lot of people are shit out of luck. And how many clans are there, exactly?"  
"Thirteen, generally speaking. They're the most important ones anyway."  
"And what's Jann?"  
Gabriel suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He's Tremere."  
That's all? I was expecting something like a higher being or the third son of Dracula or something. I rolled my cigarette between my fingers, wondering when I could ask for a light. I studied his discomfort. "And?"  
He gave me a sidelong eye. "And that's it."  
"What's up with the Tremere?" Skip all the bullshit. "Why so weird about it?"  
This time, he turned his head to make eye contact with me. "Because they're blood magicians. They're... evil."


	30. Thirty

So I guffawed. And chortled. And everything else that made me snort with amusement. "Okay, okay," I waved my hand at him. "So wait a second. If he's evil, then why is he your boss?" Then again, I wouldn't put it past the guy to become a dictator of sorts to a bunch of wimps.  
"Because he's a turncoat. You need a light?"  
"Oh yes, please. So he's a turncoat, and that means?" I had an inkling, but I wasn't going to say it just yet. Turncoats weren't to be trusted, even I knew that. Which made me wonder how old all these so-called vampires really were. Doesn't wisdom come with age?  
"Meaning he used to be a Camarilla, and now he's not." He reached into his pocket and extracted a fancy butane lighter. "He hates their system, and who better to infiltrate the enemy than someone who knows them?"  
Well didn't that sound all-too-perfect. Again, I kept this to myself as I leaned forward and let him like my smoke. "And how long have you guys been at this?"  
"Like, when did our coven start? Hm... I think it's been a little over ten years now. Here, keep this."  
In the most curious way, I felt honored to have his lighter. He slipped it into my hand and I held it there. "And how many are there of you guys anyway? In your group?"  
"You just saw all of us. There's eight of us, including Jann."  
"And how old are you?" Why, yes, Gabriel, with each answer came two more questions. This would be a long night. Did he need to eat? I supposed he was okay because of what... had happened to Green. Was this the blood magic he was talking about? Even now, a shiver traveled up my spine, giving me goosebumps down my arm. What the hell was Jann?  
"I died at the wonderful age of twenty-seven. Like all the great ones, in case you haven't noticed. Except I was reborn. Technically, I'm fifty-nine.""  
"Old man, huh?" I eyed him. "Prove it."  
It seemed he enjoyed the challenge as he gave me another of his dazzling smiles. "If I showed you my license, you'd say it's counterfeit. It'd take too long to prove it to you. Now I know why Jann likes you. You're a cynical fuck."  
How he could say that without it sounding insulting was definitely some sort of trick. Then again, maybe it wasn't because I felt comfortable with the guy. Or was it all just a trick of his supposed talent at being superficial? Now I suddenly felt suspicious and leery of this guy as he looked back at me.  
"I know you're thinking I'm a creep. Or I'm using my skills or something. Charlie, I'm definitely not."  
Another ploy?  
"I genuinely have nothing against you. Good for Jann. I'm already Kindred – that's what we call ourselves. And trust me, I have no interest in Tremere. They're weirdos. And sick. But don't tell him I said that, even though I know he won't be surprised. But hey," he shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't intend on embracing you. What the hell do I know."  
Embracing? I observed his indifference as he wrapped his hands behind his head and kicked his feet up on the divan.  
"Meaning, turning you, as you called it. Maybe if you believe that we really are what we are, he'll keep you human instead and do some weird ritual on you and save your blood or organs or something then use it when he needs it. I don't know. Tremere are weird. I feel bad for you, really," he said, looking down his nose at me. "They do some really fucked up shit. God only know what he wants from you."  
I felt nothing but a strange contention against him. I liked the guy, I really did. He was straightforward and didn't hide his vanity. But his antipathy toward Jann kind of angered me, and I couldn't explain why. Which made it all the more frustrating.  
"And if he makes you into another Tremere – if he's strong enough to pass on those traits to you – you'll end up turning into a freak like him. And I'll regret ever being friendly with you."  
I raised an eyebrow at him. We were friends already?  
"Then again, you're weird like him. Always suspicious. Believe me, Charlie, I ain't lying to you. I got nothing to hide."  
Those who have to clarify their honesty are guilty of the opposite. And this thought of mine just proved what he said, right? Maybe I could understand that perspective. And maybe I couldn't. Because these vampires were just fictional characters. Yet I couldn't deny what I witnessed only an hour ago. They had drank his blood. Jann had done something literally impossible... or was it illiterate? I wasn't drunk, right? It wasn't a dream, right?  
I glanced at Gabriel and found him studying me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Still finding it hard to believe, hm?"  
"That you's drink people's blood?" I raised my eyebrow as high as I could. "Realistically? Yeah."  
He shrugged. "Yeah, some are like that. Maybe you'll never be convinced. But the sooner you accept it... hm," and he trailed off into thought as his finger tapped his lips.  
"The sooner what?"  
He shook his head. "I don't know what Jann has in mind for you, and it's actually annoying me. I think I'm jumping to conclusions here. Listen," he leaned forward and looked me square in the eyes. "This – his interest in you... it's something new. He's never done this... to anyone."  
"Oh, here we go," I sighed and rolled my eyes. "The chosen one and all that nonsense. I'm sick of that synopsis."  
"What synopsis?" He paused for a moment, digesting what I'd just said. But I don't think he got it. "A lot of us have girlfriends... well, I used to, but—"  
"You know," I interrupted him. "Why did you break up with her?""  
He was quiet for nearly a minute. I studied his reaction which went from surprise, to thought, to a scowl, back to thought, then resignation. "Because Jann said I had to."  
This angered me. Tremendously.  
And before I could respond, Gabriel had the jump on me, shaking his head at me. "No, before you start arguing with me, I'm going to tell you my theory. If you could understand the seriousness of this business we're in, you'd get it. Jann's been around. He's our boss. What he says, even if it doesn't make sense, it goes. He's kept us tight, and he's brought more of us together. We'd be dead without him."  
I scowled at him. "Yeah, anarchy doesn't get you far now, does it."  
He scoffed. "Anarchs doesn't mean we're throwing riots. I told you, we just want the system changed. The old guys have gotta go. We need a democracy, a vote. Something that isn't based on who you know."  
"That concept sounds awfully familiar," I mumbled.  
"But we're different from you humans," he leaned forward, grinning. I leaned back, unsure of how the hell he had heard me. "We have powers that you don't have. There is a respect and fear among us that doesn't exist among humans. You humans are so simple and so easy – and consequently so stupid and impatient. But when you're dealing with beings that have lived and seen so much more than... well, I'm 59 years old. Not very old, but people still think I'm 29.  
"But I've been hanging with people pushing the hundreds, and far into them.  
"So imagine knowing that you have hundreds, even thousands of years ahead of you, and possibly more. You learn to take your time. You learn that the here and now isn't all that life's about. You learn that you have powers inside of you, demonic or just repressed by humanity, that can help you and hurt you at the same time. This is where the clans come in. Jann's former clan?" He furrowed his eyebrows and gave me a sidelong glance. "The Tremere are... weird. They're demonic. They're blood magicians. They do sick things with blood. They manipulate blood and do spells and weird shit."  
Now this was... weird, for lack of better terms. "What do you mean 'weird shit,'"?  
"Just... well once they pair their skills with their talents, they're kind of like a walking mind-reading hypnotizing wizard who could figure out where you're spending the night just by looking at a puddle. Well, Jann's not that good, but I've heard some things..."  
It all sounded rather preposterous to me.  
He laughed, a clear and goodhearted laugh. "Yeah, you're going to have problems believing this stuff about us. Maybe you should come along with me on one of my outings or something. See how it's done."  
I crossed my arms. "Not interested. That's sick. Outings? Is that what you call them?"  
"Okay, come with me for a dinner date, how about that?"  
I pursed my lips, rolling my eyes.  
"Or maybe I should show you what happens when a vampire doesn't get any blood. Then you'll see what we're all about it. Maybe your fear would keep you in line," his nostrils flared as he looked down his nose at me.  
"Yeah, we'll see."  
"Ah!" Gabriel suddenly snapped his fingers. "I know just the thing," his smile widened and he pulled out his cell phone from his back pocket. He dialed, and soon after: "Hey boss. Yeah, it's fine. Unbeliever, though. Did you say why you wanted it? I can't seem to remember... okay." Another pause. "Sure." And then another. "Okay. Oh, yeah, right. I figured if he saw someone ashing, she might believe... Okay. Sure." And he hung up.  
"Jann?" I assumed out loud.  
"Yeah, he says it's a good idea if you watched one of our kind burn to death by the sun. That was my original idea..."  
Sure it was. "What's going on?"  
"Do you like watching movies? Looks like you have something fun to watch this morning. Though this is no story."  
I gave him a dead stare.  
He was looking back at me, then suddenly started. "Oh right, you didn't see the rest of the meeting. Well," he smiled, leaning forward. "That bastard was Frank's human slave, you see. And it was only so he could one day be a vampire, like us. So do you know what I did?"  
I spied something of a strange and malicious glint in his usually simple blue eyes.  
"I turned him."  
So he did what Green had been wishing for. But then there had to be a catch. So I said nothing.  
"And he will never rise again."  
Rise again? I couldn't resist. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"  
"He will be staked within the hour to burn in the sun. Your god of light. And he will never taste the elixir that is your blood, because you will be standing there just out of his reach to watch him turn to ash. Maybe then you'll believe. Sometimes, I wish I'd stayed a poet."  
It was all rather flabbergasting, and it must have shown on my face because Gabriel laughed.  
"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Maybe Jann cast a spell or something. But yeah, he wants you to watch Green's demise. At 6 today, which is like," he glanced down at his gold Rolex, "half an hour from now."


	31. Thirty-One

I narrowed my eyes.  
He studied me as I thought of what to say to him. For once in my life, I was at a loss for words.  
"I know you don't believe me. You'll change your tune when you see what happens to us... vampires." He winked at me and stood up to stretch.  
I felt afraid. "You're leaving?"  
"Nah, just getting too comfy. I need to move around or else I'll get sleepy. Kind of a curse, if you know what I mean."  
No, I don't know what you mean. But I kept that to myself. "Show me around?"  
"Hm?" He looked down at me. I'd never realized how tall he was, he had to be at least 6'3". "Jann's house? Yeah right. We're lucky to even be in here. This is the first time I've been in this room down here. He kind of just pushed you off the side after you passed out. I had to carry you in here." He snapped his fingers, suddenly looking forlorn. "Shit, I should've asked him if I could leave." He rolled his eyes, huffing and looking around the room.  
I took offense to the fact that Gabriel carried me in here, not Jann. And I couldn't tell you why. I had to change the subject. "So you turned Green, huh? What's with the ash and crap?"  
"The sun will burn his soul. Don't you read? Brooke said you're smart, but I'm starting to wonder."  
I cringed to hear her name. He must have noticed because he sighed and sat back down beside me.  
"Yeah, I'm sorry, too."  
It just sounded too cold. I didn't accept her death yet. I could see her drawn face right now. Was she already dead when Frank turned his eyes to me? Her pallor certainly looked it. A chill ran through my body and I wanted to crawl up into a ball and wish all this was just a dream. Not real. Not happening. These were all just a group of criminals who had a psychopathic fascination for drinking people's blood. Cannibals, even. I was cavorting with lunatics. There is no such thing as vampires. My guffaw came out as a squeak, and Gabriel turned to me.  
"Having issues, Char?"  
Char? That was new. "I need a drink."  
"That can be arranged," his face lit up. He took up his phone and began tapping away, suddenly livening up.  
Over a drink? I was curious. "Will you join me?"  
"Nah, I can't. Most of us can't. There's a few who can tolerate it... but a juicy steak just isn't the same anymore." He eyed me. "If Jann ever turns you, you'll know what I mean. So I suggest you enjoy your human food for all that it's worth."  
I frowned. Was he serious?  
He laughed. "Oh my god, you're a tough one! No wonder Jann likes you, you've got a head of cement!"  
This was no compliment to me. "How is that likeable?" A small idea began to quickly flower in my mind. If I could un-attract Jann, maybe I'd get the chance to turn tail and run out of here. Out of Connecticut, out of this whole damn weird affair altogether. Chalk it off as a short trip to the insane asylum. Because this is what this felt like.  
"Oh please, everyone has their uh, their quirks. Maybe that's his thing. God knows everybody resists him and he probably gets off on it. But you? I don't know." He glanced down at his phone as it vibrated in his hand, then frowned. "No drinks for you. Actually, he's coming down to pick you up right now."  
I stared at him. "Jann?"  
"He's the boss. Sorry kid, I'm going to have to miss the show. I always miss the show, but whatever. Jann's a sadist... well, whatever. Hey," he caught my eye. "I'm one of his top guys, okay? Try not to put me down in front of him?"  
"Now why would I go and do such a thing? And when have I ever..?"  
He shrugged, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "I don't know. Oh, and stay away from Jamie."  
My ex look-alike. "Why?"  
"Because... I noticed Jann gets jealous. Jamie's the new kid. He's kind of stupid, but I like him. Doesn't think before he acts, but hey, live and learn. I don't want to see another go..." He trailed off.  
Not that I typically jump to assumptions, but his statement left a bad taste in my mouth. As in, Jann had done something to someone Gabriel appreciated, and Jann had taken that away from him, and now he merely feared him out of respect. Because the motivation and morale for this Anarch scheme was quite lacking compared to what he claimed his so-called mission to be. "Jamie looks like my ex. So... I won't even look at the guy."  
He raised an eyebrow for a second. "I don't know if I feel assured. Jann's on his way. Just be nice, okay?"  
"As if I'm not?" I couldn't help but say.  
He snorted, then stopped himself.  
I hadn't even heard the door open, but the presence was unmistakeable. Jann was already standing beside our divan beside Gabriel.


	32. Thirty-Two

He was in all his brilliant douche glory, just as I'd remembered him not nearly an hour ago. Gabriel kept his cool and I felt no animosity from Jann. I wondered if I should have. Had he heard our conversation?  
"He's set up?" Gabriel inquired, feigning a stretch.  
"Foaming at the mouth. I should give him a taste if just to tease him, no?"  
Gabriel laughed, but I didn't get it. But I did know that his negative question meant cynicism on his part. A bitter sardonic sort of cynicism at that.  
"No," Jann looked to me, his face expressionless and undecipherable. "Whatever it takes to prove to this young lady that we are, in fact, not just figments of the imagination." And he looked squarely at me.  
I resisted squirming in my seat. Just say the whole plan outright, why don't you? "So this is all for me, eh?"  
Jann smiled. I noted that at this point, Gabriel began to tune out of the conversation. In a way, I felt sympathetic for the guy, nevermind his self-centeredness. "In a way, things have a way of falling into place when it's meant to be.""  
That was true. And that frightened me. Because it went against everything I didn't want to believe at this very moment. Well it must have shown on my face because I saw Gabriel glance at me and shake his head. Jann feigned not to notice, which made me all the more wary of this man.  
He made eye contact with me and said those dreaded three words.  
"Walk with me."  
I felt some small part of me rebelling against that obtrusive command, but my body arose from the divan anyway as if I were some zombie. There, his elbow was crooked out for me, and my hand slipped into it. Only then did I regain some small piece of myself, of which I spent managing a glance at Gabriel.  
He was lost in his own thoughts and was paying me no mind.  
And that hurt me. That observation upset me, and I couldn't understand why. But my meandering thoughts were swept away by Jann guiding me out of this room and down the hallway. The sights began to look familiar again as I passed through the hall and saw the stairwell.  
But we passed the stairwell and went to the other side of the room to another door, which, predictably, went into another hallway. Though this one was shorter than the others. We turned in to the first door on the right which was – surprise – a small sitting room.  
"You like having a bunch of useless rooms in your house?" I couldn't help but interject as I mechanically took the seat closest to me.  
"Not so useless, as you see?" He exclaimed as he took the seat beside me.  
Feeling aggressive, I had to say something back. "Well then when's the last time you sat in here?"  
"I was sitting in this same seat just last week," he smiled at me, knowing he'd outsmarted me yet again. "Waiting for the sun to rise. As I am again today."  
Was this that sadism that Gabriel was referring to? "What is the point?"  
Jann made himself comfortable and I couldn't deny that I found myself strangely attracted to the man. He was cool, calm, and arrogant; yet attentive when he didn't seem like it, and vocal when you least expected it. In a most thoughtful way that made you think he cared enough to consider your feelings. Or at least that's what I told myself, anyway. It was most probable that he was merely manipulating me to think he cared.  
I needed a cigarette again.  
"The point is," he began, "is that there are many weeds in the garden. And new ones keep sprouting their ugly shoots from the dirt, and they must be uprooted and removed. Do you understand what I mean?"  
This time, I didn't bother asking and pulled out my cigarettes, taking my time to light one, ashtray in sight or not, before answering him. Which gave me plenty of time to comprehend what he was saying. "So you're a murderer?"  
He leaned forward to me, a small smile on his lips. "Dear, they're already dead. They are merely animated corpses."  
I raised an eyebrow. A vamp is a vamp, right? Throw the logic back. "So you're saying you're an animated corpse, too?"  
He leaned back, smiling. "I am no automaton, Charlene. When you see Green, you will know what I mean."  
"But you're torturing the guy. Or at least that's what it sounds like to me." Staked, sunlight, yeah, sounded like torture.  
"Can you understand why?"  
I scowled at him for a moment. "Because he..." No, not because of Brooke. How could I expect Jann to take sympathy for ...her? I pursed my lips and let silence reign.  
I think Jann knew I wasn't going to answer. He just watched me take a few puffs of my cigarette. "If you do what I say, you will be safe. If you do not listen to what I tell you to do, you will live to regret it. Do you understand?""  
I gave him a look. "Jann, what do you want from me? Are you harvesting my parts? My blood, or whatever? Or you're going to turn me? What?"  
"Everyone has a use, Charlene, and we all have our place. For now, your place is here. As a human. Don't bother me with inane questions."  
"Then tell me what's going to happen to me. After sunup, are you letting me free?"  
"You can try to leave, Charlene, but you will not get far. We are everywhere. And as you've met Green, there are many more like him. You can never hide, my dear." He grasped his armrests, leaning toward me once more. "And I will find you. Take my advice: do not waste your energy. It would be better spent learning what I have to teach you."  
I folded my arms and leaned back. "I'm impatient, so start teaching."  
He chuckled then, settling back in the armchair. "What do you expect to learn in fifteen minutes?"  
"Tell me why you were going to kill Brooke."


	33. Thirty-Three

"It's called the Masquerade. We take our identity seriously. And humans are our biggest liability."  
"You mean what you call blood dolls?"  
"It's called being blood bound. If anyone, human or vampire, tastes our blood, a connection begins. The second time you taste our blood, it's an even stronger connection. And after the third time, there is no turning back. You're under our control and you are forever craving our blood. We may or may not give it to you. But it is the game that enthralls everyone."  
"So this is why Brooke was obsessed with Gabriel. Because she was blood bound?"  
"Hardly. Gabriel only gave her one taste."  
"One?" And she was that prepossessed with him? The thought was terrifying, but I was distracted by his chuckling.  
"You seem surprised, my dear Charlene. Does the idea frighten you?"  
Damn him and his sarcastic manners. And for Gabriel to be so cool about it, while she had sat there fanatically clinging to him. So I blurted out the first comeback in my mind. "The only reason she went to Frank was to have Gabriel exposed." I didn't understand the ins and outs of it, but that was the plan. As far as I knew.  
"Which is why you humans cannot be trusted."  
Again, he turned it on me. The frustration of my defeat showed.  
"You must understand. The Masquerade is to protect our identities. They are to keep us from being exposed to prying eyes and destructive minds. Would that the wrong human wish to know our immortality, to view us as a science experiment, to reveal all our secrets, to interrogate us as if we were harbingers of life itself – I, nor any of our kind, would tolerate such indolent mockery.  
"To be a vampire is a curse. This you will understand."  
"But you're proud of it."  
"What should I do, Charlene?" He shrugged, as if he'd had this conversation a million times before. "I am what I am. Should I curl up and bury myself in a hole? Or should I take up arms and defend my own?"  
"You mean this Anarch thing?"  
He shrugged. "We have our own lives. We aren't humans anymore. The Masquerade is about maintaining our own fates while leaving yours alone. And it includes leaving you out of our fates. Do you understand?"  
"So you want to be left alone. But yet you're intruding on our lives. You need to drink our blood to stay alive?" I nearly guffawed at this point at the utter preposterousness of this conversation. Vampires? Living on blood? Yet a single image flashed through my mind of Frank drinking my friend's blood. How could this be?  
"We sustain on those who don't deserve to live."  
"But who determines who does or doesn't deserve to live? You?"  
"Gods, as you see. Gods of darkness." He leaned on his elbow toward me. "It's not as if we have a choice, Charlene. Would that we could live on something else. Some of us have gotten so miserable that they need to sustain on their own kind."  
"Cannibalism?"  
"Yes. It only gets worse."  
"So why do you bother us humans with this blood bound thing? Isn't the whole concept about leaving everyone to their own?"  
"Because that is our curse. To be forever cursed to kill those who we once loved. We were all humans once, my dear. That is the one thing never to forget."  
"Who, you? I am human, Jann, I won't forget." I eyed him carefully, watching his reaction, hoping to get some clue as to what exactly he wanted from me. "So tell me how you turn people."  
"Perhaps another time, my dear. For it is time," he said, glancing down at his watch. "I would continue this conversation further, but it must be postponed till tomorrow. We all need our rest. But first, I would like you to see what we are. What we become. You must see our curse."  
I frowned, thinking his words rather high and lofty. Did he love the sound of his voice that much? "Right."


	34. Thirty-Four

He stood up and I followed suite. He didn't say another word as I trailed him to the door. I followed him out, taking a right toward the last and only door after the small sitting room we'd been conversing in.  
He opened the door and I found myself in a dimly lit and slightly larger room with a single large ground-level window at the far end. And there, in the corner of the room beside the window, was Green. He was shirtless, covered with bruises and crouched to the floor. He glared at us the moment we came in, and I faltered at his stare.  
He wasn't the same. He was... feral. His eyes were bloodshot and he was seething through his mouth. His movements ceased the moment he saw me.  
I paused in my step as I met his gaze, and broke it when I saw Jann taking a seat in the far corner of the room away from the window.  
Afraid of the sunlight? I noted that Green was chained to a ring on the wall beside the window.  
I scurried over to Jann, suddenly fearful and unsure. What sort of torture was this?  
And I nearly collided into Jann when Green suddenly lunged toward me. I gripped Jann's jacket and hid myself behind him, terrified at the ringing clinks of the chains as they ran through the loop and toward me.  
Jann's hand rested on my forearm, and I felt a tingle run through me despite the fear inside that made me turn white.  
I heard a loud clank as the chains suddenly stopped, and after a couple of seconds, I peered out from behind Jann. Green was held fast by the chains clamped on his wrists. He stood still, arms restrained behind him as he stared at me.  
Was he... not breathing? It was as if he hadn't exerted himself at all, even though this all happened within the span of two seconds. His chest didn't move, and he was as still as a statue.  
Jann took me by the arms and positioned me beside him. He casually glanced to the far wall that held a large clock, the second hand ticking slowly and loudly in this empty room, save a winged armchair that was nearby.  
The clock read 6:52. And it was getting bright outside. Dawn was soon to break.  
I hadn't realized that Jann was still holding onto my arm until he raised it straight out toward Green, my pale wrist exposed. I looked at him, and he was looking at me.  
"Do you see?"  
I furrowed my brow, trying to read his amber eyes. "See what?"  
"My prisoner? The fledgling that Gabriel has made?"  
I couldn't look at Green to spite the relentless gaze that beheld me. And so I nodded instead.  
"That could be you, do you understand?"  
What was that supposed to mean? I didn't react.  
"Look at him, Charlene. Do you see?"  
I had no choice but to look at Green when Jann took his eyes from me to also look at the silent creature a mere four feet from us. And what I saw terrified me. Green hadn't taken his eyes off of me once this whole time, I knew. He only stared at me. Was it recognition? Was it carnal? What was that unnatural gleam in his eye that kept him entranced?  
"Charlene."  
Was I entranced by this monster? I caught my breath, not knowing I'd been holding it for so long, and quickly looked back at Jann who still held me by my wrist.  
"Do you see?"  
The clouds drifted over me again. The room was getting brighter and I could see Jann's features more sharply. He became a better looking fellow with each time I set my eyes on him. "I see a deranged man."  
"Do you see his bloodlust?"  
"Bloodlust?" I trailed off.  
"Charlene," he cut me off from my scattered thoughts.  
I focused on him.  
"Trust me."  
By the time I comprehended his words, he'd pulled me closer to him. My heart pounded in my chest as I felt our chests meet, his face not nearly a few inches from my own. How had he done this to me? And yet, my body felt entirely compliant, nevermind the sudden weakness from my waist down. I looked up at him, his words echoing in my mind. "Why?" I could barely get the words out of my mouth.  
"Do as I say."  
Yet he said nothing, but I knew what he wanted. Beside us, I could hear a sudden rattling of the chains. Jann's face became clearer, and seconds later, I realized it was getting even brighter in the room. And those golden eyes were getting closer, and closer, and my eyes began to close, feeling self-conscious of my lips parting, feeling his grip on my arm and the nearness of his scent. And his lips touched mine, and a chill began from my nether regions upward.  
The commotion Green made muffled into the distance. And then I felt a sharp needle in my lip and my eyes sprang open. His closeness, the touch of his cool skin, the crush of his fingers on my arm, I suddenly realized all these things with the pain that was prompted from his biting my lip.  
And I pushed him away from me, my hand going to my mouth as my face contorted into a scowl of confusion and discontent.  
He bit me!  
And it was sharp like a knife! No teeth should be like so!  
Green disrupted my momentary self-pity. He tore at his chains, creating such a cacophony of ringing steel and guttural noises that I took a step back in fright. My hand went to my lip which now throbbed with a searing hot pain.  
Holding my fingers up, I saw blood on them. And behind my fingers was Green, now gnashing his teeth and glaring wide-eyed at my hand.  
My eyes darted to Jann who only looked calmly at Green just as he finished licking his bottom lip. And like slow motion, he turned his face toward me. "Do you see?"  
I was speechless. I looked back at Green.  
"You have two minutes, Mr. Green," Jann spoke loudly above the rattling din. "Do put on a good display for the unbeliever?" He stuck his finger in his mouth, withdrew it, then held it out toward Green, a mere two feet away.  
And Green's hand reached for him, his dead eyes wildly searching Jann's pointing finger.  
"Come closer, Charlene, see what Green would die for."  
I moved like a zombie, staring at Jann's finger. A smear of blood traced across his fingertip. I cringed as I looked at Green. And then the crazed maniac spotted me, his eyes opening wide and staring at my lip. I promptly sucked it in, realizing that it was still bleeding.  
And as if the pit of hell opened, Green's groans became louder, his hands now grasping at the air toward me.  
And out of his mouth drawled one word. "Blood."


	35. Thirty-Five

I frowned and looked back to Jann. "This?" I touched my lip, smearing the tiniest amount of blood on my two forefingers. "Did you drug him?"  
And that was the first time I saw Jann's wrath. Had I spent his patience? Had I failed him? The inexplicable regret I felt would that were the case – and I never bowed to anyone before. Why this man? How did he have this weird power over me? Jann's eyes were raging, his pupils near golden as he gave me the coldest stare I'd ever encountered. At least I could contain my anxious quiver.  
And Jann gripped my wrist – it felt like a vice – and suddenly thrust my wrist toward Green.  
Green struggled in vain against his binds, his tongue darting through his teeth. I ogled him and his ghastly behavior, trying to pull myself out of Jann's grip, but to no avail. I wasn't surprised that he held me so strongly with his fingers, but still, I tried to worm my way out without even the slightest success.  
And Green was nearly frothing at the mouth.  
I turned to Jann and my heart nearly stopped when I saw him looking calmly down at me. "Would you let him have a taste of your soul?"  
Images of Frank possessing Brooke flashed through my mind. Brooke's skin shriveling and turning white within a matter of seconds. I faltered, a wave of nausea washing over me.  
And Jann caught me. I found myself in his arm before I scrambled back to my feet, my observations kicking into comprehension. "No. Never."  
Jann smiled. "So you prefer to tease him until the sun rises?"  
I scowled, glancing at the window that was ever brightening. I could see the silhouettes of the bushes and neatly manicured landscaping coming into view. Green still lunged toward me, his arms pulled behind him by the chains but his smacking lips and glazed eyes trying unsuccessfully to get close to me. Like he was rabid. But a small voice inside my consciousness told me that this was no human condition.  
"There is a minute. I suppose I ought to satiate his desire for your soul before his last few seconds, yes?"  
Before I could reply, he'd taken his finger and dragged it across my lip. I was bleeding less now, but a small trace was left on his finger.  
Jann let go of me and as if it were all in slow motion (for I comprehended his movement moments later), he moved toward Green, crouched down to the floor and leaning forward, wiped his finger on the tile.  
Green followed his every move, watched his every move. And in the quick moment that Jann left the red streak on the floor and pulled himself away, Green flew down to the floor.  
I stared, aghast, as I watched him lick the tiny streak. And continue to lick the floor.  
Jann reappeared beside me. "Do you see the depravity? How pathetic?"  
I was, for once, speechless as I looked in in disgust.  
"So this disturbs you?'  
I looked back up at him quickly. "This is disgusting."  
"It's who we are, were we stripped to our primal nature. Not an attractive sight to witness. But this is something you should know."  
Not even Frank was this slobbery or gross. "For what purpose?"  
Jann glanced at the clock, then at Green for a moment, then back down to me. "Because now you will watch one of us die."


	36. Thirty-Six

I couldn't see the morning sun rays. But Green felt it before I noticed it. And his reaction to it was horrific.  
He was crouched on all fours, sniffing and licking the floor, when he suddenly lurched, twisting his back and screaming.  
I covered my ears and took a step back.  
His screaming turned into howling, howling into screeching. I could hardly grasp the brightening of the room, but Green's torment that rang in my ears seemed to tell me the sun was close to cresting.  
For a split second, I noted that Jann hadn't moved at all. He just stood there, his back to me, since I crawled as far away from Green as possible, his arms crossed and appearing to studiously observe Green's behavior.  
Green suddenly jumped backwards, retreating to the small sliver of shadow in the corner beside the tall window.  
Yet, I felt no pity. Fear, yes, but concern for his pain? Absolutely not. He wasn't the man that had grabbed me out of my car not nearly 24 hours ago, yet I could see wholly the manifestation of his sins.  
And there in the shadows of the brightening room, I could see dark splotches on his skin. It almost looked charred, like a burnt marshmallow, bubbling, crispy, and black.  
Those were not there before.  
And then I felt a coldness gripping me. My instincts kicked in before I knew what was happening. I looked around wildly, only to see Jann taking me by my arms and throwing me at Green.  
I sprawled onto the floor, nearly tearing my nails off as I tried to stop myself from getting close to the groveling creature. I skidded a foot (though it felt like more) into something of a crouching position as I desperately tried to orient myself.  
I wasn't exactly that small, but he'd thrown me as if I were merely a toy.  
I expected Green to be upon me in an instant. And indeed, as soon as my eyes found his, he lunged at me.  
Was this all some cruel joke? Was I to die here? Now?  
He landed on top of me, his fingers grabbing at my clothes, tearing at them as I struggled to get to my feet. I hit him with my backhand, my mind screaming that I was going to die. It couldn't end this way! Not with this rabid-!  
My thoughts were overwhelmed by Green's shrieking. He'd let me go only instantaneously and I fell back to the ground on my hands and knees. I scooched backwards as fast as I could, turning myself to look for his whereabouts.  
I thought I saw him leaping backward head-first, but then I wasn't sure that I really saw him move. He collapsed to the floor (I shoved another few inches away from him), contorting on the floor. His yells ceased in an instant, and something more raspy and hoarse emanated from his throat. Though they were incoherent. And when he began to writhe and twist all around the floor, I got up to my feet as fast as I could and edged backwards toward Jann.  
Where else could I go?  
What was this I was witnessing? Green was leaving black streaks all over the floor. He ground his nails into the floor, and at one point, I saw his face and it was twisted into the most horrific silent groan of pain, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Then pieces – actual pieces –– of his clothing and I didn't realize until after a moment, his skin and hair, were falling off of him. I would have sworn that he was having a seizure, but that didn't explain the... ashing. And the pieces of his being that were streaking away.  
And it was at this point that I noticed that the room was getting brighter. I glanced at Jann. His face was hard, still focused on Green's suffering. I looked back at Green, and I couldn't understand what I was witnessing.  
He was literally disintegrating into thin air.  
Now my only experience with vampires has been in books and film. And I have to say that while it never seemed so violent in the movies, they were actually quite spot-on. Green was dying, albeit in something of a bloody manner, where the blood was black and leaving trails on the floor, and his movements became more and more jerky and spastic.  
And then he stopped.  
Not unlike a man whose heart has just beat its last. Green lay in a swirling mess of black streaks, his body twisted into an abnormal pose, his mouth gaping and eyes staring wide above his head. And then his frame collapsed into itself. He didn't disappear like so many of the movies I'd seen, but rather, he shriveled up a tiny bit.  
And that was all.  
I stared at him for a good minute before looking up to Jann. A cacophony of emotions screamed at me. Why did you throw me to him? What were you hoping for? Why isn't the sunlight bothering you? What happened to Green? I don't believe it.  
But instead: "Why is he still there?"  
Jann looked down at me. "He'd only been turned an hour ago, what did you expect?"  
"I don't understand."  
He thinned his lips, and only then did he suddenly appear ragged and tired. "My dear, the longer you are undead, the more the body needs to sustain on blood. But once your body is unable to process that blood, means such as by the sun or murder, it will revert to its true state."  
"So those bodies that disintegrate..."  
"The limelight pays no mind to science or logic. Erase all you know. You have just observed a vampire perish. This is your reality now."


	37. Thirty-Seven

So here I lay on a canopied king bed, still trying to comprehend all that had happened to me last night all through until dawn. The single fact that I was staring at some strange burgundy mezzo pattern designed in silk and gold thread the likes I'd never seen before, the soft cashmere throw and the silky covers of the bed kept reminding me that this was no dream.  
It was mid-morning and the house – Jann's manse – was still and silent. Was I the only soul awake? Did these beings even have souls? Yet, such a small seed of doubt lay in the back of my mind that this was all just some ridiculous cult. Rich folk who took in druggies and forced them to perform strange rituals, like some sort of secret underground religion. But yet I could not deny what I'd seen. I could not deny the look in Jann's eyes as he had turned to me this morning with something more than just pride and authority. Something like knowing, and there was no helping it but to flaunt it.  
He made me feel insignificant. Not that I ever really felt important, but he made me feel as if I were the least of those he'd ever met.  
And I felt ashamed for it. This was a peculiar feeling for me. Because no one made me feel worthless or expendable. Until I met this Jann. It wasn't a common occurrence of mine to meet an unknown caliber like him. Because I truly didn't know who the hell he was.  
But I had the inkling that he was vetting me. To be a vampire or a blood doll, I wasn't sure. He hadn't offered me his blood, but he had given me free reign of his kitchen. Which for some strange reason he kept stocked with food. So was he or wasn't he... a vampire? I would laugh about it if I knew it was just some sort of rehearsal.  
So I'd had a couple slices of cheese and a tea to satiate my nonexistent appetite.  
The courtesy made me think all the more that this was some disparate cult. Recruitment?  
My thoughts wandered to my hometown. Then my absent father. Would I ever see it or him again? Was I stuck here permanently? Could I escape? Did I even have the option to leave? I wasn't too assured of that last question in my mind.  
I huffed and turned my head to stare out of a nearby curtained window, and without warning, as usual, my thoughts wandered back to Jann.  
What the hell was he, and why did he seems so enchanting to me? More like a curse.  
After Green's disintegration, for it seemed more appropriate than to be called a death, Jann had stood there for another minute in silence. By the time I had calmed down (which I assumed was about a minute), Jann turned and made eye contact with me.  
He hadn't said much, but I could sense a suffering behind his gaze. He led me out of the room quickly, but that didn't ease his hidden pain. And that's when he told me to entertain myself and that all I needed was here in this house for the taking. And that I was welcome to all of it.  
And then he disappeared.  
Well, not into thin air, but rather he strode hastily back to the main stairwell and disappeared from my view, back toward the meeting room.  
Was it the sunlight?  
I'd shrugged and wandered to the window overlooking his backyard, brightening ever so slowly from the light of the golden dawn.  
As if nothing awry had just occurred.  
How many others were watching this sunrise with similar or not so similar sentiments? How many other... humans... were watching this sunrise, just getting up for another humdrum work routine? How many hadn't even slept the night before because of something awful they'd just learned? How many stayed up all night depressed? Horrified? In worse shape than myself? I could be dying, awaiting my last breath. I could've been in Green's position, frying into dust from the sun.  
Vampires.  
What the hell did that mean.  
What did it mean to me? Eternal life? Servitude? Death? Imminent death? Torture? Torment?  
What was the appeal?  
Again, Jann's face appeared in my mind's eye. And immediately, I shunned it. His hold on me was nearly infuriating. But not completely.  
Jann would be the death of me.  
This I knew.  
I closed my eyes, exhaling, feeling the breath escape from my lungs into the cool air. Would this be the only air I'd breathe? Was this the last sight I'd see? What world was I entering?  
Little did I know that the world of darkness had begun its slow and assured tendrils into my existence.

 **End of Week One.**


	38. Postscript

Hi all! I can't express how much I appreciate your favs, follows, and reviews on this writing endeavor. I've finally completed Episode Two of the Charlie Project. It's taken so very long only because it needed a major plot overhaul and two rewrites. I am much happier with the rewrite, and I'm currently in the process of editing. I will be posting each chapter as I complete them.

One major change in the second episode is chapter lengths. I'm not sure how you feel about them, but I have decided on a different method for the latest installment. They will be much longer chapters, segmented into the passing of time. Easier to follow, as it were.

So anyways, thanks for sticking with me this far! Without further adieu, Episode Two is live! You won't be disappointed!


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